Indines Date Night
by Tiran Kin
Summary: In the World of Indines, it's traditional to have company during the solstice. Some are spending the evening with their loved ones; others are seeking new ones. Features more than twenty characters from Level 99 Games' BattleCON and/or Argent: The Consortium, as well as numerous unspecified guest characters. Written before a live Internet audience.
1. Round 1

_"All right, the matchup chart has been finalized," the blindfolded wolf remarked to her audience. "Rexan and Lymn got the short end: they're only on-screen for one date apiece."_

 _"A Lymn date?" gruffly remarked **Audience Member #1** , a well-armed man with a goatee and a headband. "This is gonna be good."_

 _"In Round 4, yes," the wolf confirmed. "And I think I'm ready to start._

 _"Solstice is coming our way—for some of us, it's already here. Thanks to a tradition that originated in the Relecan countryside, but which spread clear across the continent (and may soon breach the borders of Amalao), many consider it customary to spend the evening of the solstice in casual leisure with pleasant company._

 _In other words, it's date night in Indines._

 _In the past few years, we've seen the emergence of special gatherings designed to aid this type of solstice celebration: events which rapidly introduce eligible individuals to each other one after another, then help promising matches stay in touch. Let's look at one of those."_

* * *

 **Round 1, Room 1**

* * *

A fierce-looking woman with red eyes shifted in her chair, trying to scratch the back of her leg with the heel on her other shoe.

 _Wish they'd let me keep my knives,_ she sighed to herself. _How do these things itch so much? They're not even real tights. They're just an image of tights. Yet they itch so badly!_

There was a knock on the door, and she straightened hurriedly.

 _That must be my partner for round one. Okay, stay calm. It's just a casual conversation. I'm overdressed, aren't I? Should I have used my field guise? No, that top is terrible in this weather. I shouldn't have worn earrings, though. I look far too dressy in this._

"Come in," she said aloud.

 _It's okay, Alumis, you've got this,_ she reminded herself. _Just a casual conversation so I can celebrate this tradition and fit in with the surface-dwellers. It'll be easy. Just look nice and try to be charming._

The door opened, and in stepped a tall, imposing gentleman in an understated dress uniform of exquisite quality. His long, wavy hair shimmered like stars at midnight, and his sharp eyes met hers over his spectacles.

"Thank you," he replied smoothly. "My name is **Cairngort**. May I share your table?"

Alumis tried to remember to keep her mouth closed.

 _I didn't know they_ made _human men this gorgeous! I'm underdressed, I'm_ so _underdressed. Casual conversation, casual conversation... What am I supposed to talk about? I don't remember how to be casual!_

"Please do," she replied primly in a voice that barely shook.

"Thank you again," the gentleman replied, seating himself opposite her. (The room had only a single table and two chairs, so it wasn't as if there was much choice about it.)

 _Etiquette, Alumis!_ she thought urgently. _What do humans talk about? Weather? How perfect his hair is?_

"May I ask your name?" Cairngort asked.

Alumis blushed. _Etiquette!_ Aloud, she answered, " **Alumis**. And yours?"

"Cairngort," the man repeated with a smile. "Hasn't changed."

 _He said his name already!_ Alumis scolded herself.

"That's a beautiful dress," he added.

"Yes, I know," she said.

 _Idiot! You're supposed to thank people when they give you compliments!_ she railed inwardly. _Thank him immediately!_

"What do you do for a living?" the gentleman was asking.

"Thank you," she blurted, her thoughts trailing behind the conversation.

Rexan blinked, and Alumis' blush deepened.

 _No, no, no! Now he thinks you're a complete buffoon!_

"Professor," she corrected. "I teach childs. I mean children. I teach children. And... not children, sometimes."

"You teach children and not children," Cairngort repeated with a twinkle in his eye. "I see."

His posture was perfect, he kept eye contact without staring, his tone was warm and even, and his every expression seemed precisely crafted to lend the perfect emphasis to every remark he made.

 _I am so outclassed,_ Alumis thought despairingly. _He's so perfect, and he has this air... like there's a perfect thing to do in every situation, and he does them all, and I can't find a single one of them! Do something right, Alumis!_

"Nice weather we're having," she tried.

Cairngort raised an eyebrow. "Did you know that it's storming outside?"

"Uh... sure. Yeah, I knew that. Of course I knew that. I, uh... like storms, is all," she offered weakly. _Aargh! How do I human I don't even_

* * *

 _"...Now for a brief interlude!"_

 _"Okay, good," sighed **Audience Member #2** , a white-haired man in a faded blue coat with wispy tails. "I can laugh out loud now."_

 _He abruptly burst into a fit of insane laughter, then halted only moments later, wiping tears from his eyes and settling back into his chair._

 _"All done," he assured the other audience members. "Carry on."_

 _"Laugh any time you like," the wolf replied. "No bother to me."_

 _"Just for the record," growled Audience Member #1, "is this what they look like when they fight, too?"_

 _"I don't know," answered the blindfolded storyteller. "I haven't seen them fight. Now, where was I... Ah, here we are. This next one will be quick."_

 _"Sorry, could you explain why this is happening?" asked **Audience Member #3** , a shadowy figure in concealing robes and a dark hood._

 _"Because they're all insane," replied **Audience Member #4** , a masked man veiled and mantled in the essence of shadow._

 _"The solstice," said the wolf._

 _"Ah!" proclaimed the robed figure. "Which means it is the right time! At last, we may gather to sing the rites of..."_

 _It trailed off, noticing that the rest of the audience appeared nonplussed._

 _"Yes?" prompted the masked man._

 _"Never mind," sighed Audience Member #3, shuffling its feet and mumbling something about never being able to get a decent ensemble together._

* * *

 **Round 1, Room 2**

* * *

In the next room down, both parties were rather less nervous than the woman in Room 1.

"So you really fight monsters?"

"Of course! What else would a magical knight do?"

* * *

 _"Meddle," muttered the shadowy man with the mystical mask. "They tend to do that."_

* * *

"And you ride throughout the cosmos and you have a spaceship and you can transform to defeat powerful villains?"

"Well, yes!" The magical knight in question had short, blonde hair with two exceptionally long pigtails, and she wore a dazzling outfit of purple, red, and gold.

"That's amazing!" praised her date, a willowy woman with pink hair and thick spectacles. "Can I have your autograph?"

"Sure!" **Magical Knight Iri** said with a grin. She spun her wand around her wrist, and it transformed into a pen and landed in her hand. "Who should I make it out to?"

"I don't think most of my friends like to read magical girl stories," **Marmelee** reflected. "I suppose just sign it to me."

The knight hesitated, and Marmelee thoughtfully provided the spelling of her name. Iri formed each letter very crudely, as if the language was something completely unfamiliar. "T... O... M... A... R... M... E... L... E."

"One more E," the willowy woman corrected.

"...E," Iri finished. "Like that?"

"That's great!" Marmelee assured her.

Iri then signed her name with a swift flourish—which was remarkable. She swept her hand across the page only once, but the mark she left behind was an elaborate maze of spirals and intersecting lines that sprawled sideways across the page as if it might escape. "There you go!"

"Um, thank you," the apparent dryad said, somewhat confused. She retrieved her book and squinted at the mark. "How do I pronounce it, again?"

"Irialandradayamorella."

"Irialanadrayamo...?" Marmelee frowned.

"Irialandradayamorella."

"Irialandramayadorella?"

"Irialandradayamorella," the magical knight repeated without the slightest sign of impatience.

"Iri—"

"And that's why I usually leave it at that," Iri cut in.

* * *

 _"Deliciousss character interactionsss," hissed **Audience Member #5** , a tall woman with pink hair and spectacles, into a body pillow._

 _"Does anyone know how to pronounce the magical knight's name?" inquired Audience Member #3 from the darkness within its hood._

 _"As another audience member once remarked, Indines is a Rorschach test of pronunciation," the storyteller replied. "Whatever works is fine. But I pronounce it 'Irialandradayamorella.'"_

 _"I say it 'Irialandradayamorella,'" growled the well-armed fellow with the goatee._

 _"Interesting," the wolf noted. "So you treat that L as silent?"_

 _"Slur through it," he corrected. "The syllable after it is weakly voiced. Like 'Irialandra,' not 'Irialandra.'"_

 _"Okay," continued the robed figure after a few moments of silence. "This is going to be a weird question, but let me try again. How do you pronounce Irialandradayamorella?"_

* * *

 **Round 1, Room 3**

* * *

One side of the table in the next room down was occupied by a fellow whose top was a scrap that couldn't be called a shirt by even the most stringent of nudists. Belts and straps encircled his arms, and rosary beads adorned his wrists and neck. He had a mane of unruly white hair, and he looked thoroughly bored.

"I can't believe they matched me up with a bitch," sighed the shirtless man.

Across the table, a wolf wearing a pale yellow ribbon scowled at him.

* * *

 _"How did I_ not _see that coming?" demanded the pink-haired woman._

* * *

"I guess I should've been more careful when filling out the application," **Gaspar** grumbled. "It asked what I was looking for. Next time, I'm just going to put 'unbelievers.' Or, wait. 'Good listeners.'"

The wolf shook her head.

"What, you don't think so? I'm sure you're not any happier with this than I am."

The wolf shook her head again.

"So what do you suggest I put next time, then?"

The wolf shrugged.

"There, see?" Gaspar conjured a blade to pick his teeth, then stopped and eyed the wolf. "Hang on. How does a wolf shrug?"

The wolf shrugged again.

* * *

 _ **Audience Member #6** , a massless being beyond time and space, poked an ethereal tentacle through the side of the chest of refreshments. "Oh! Is it story time?"_

 _"Yup," replied the blindfolded wolf cheerfully._

 _The eldritch being cheered, rattling the chest violently as it did._

 _"We're in Round 1 at the moment," the wolf explained. "We're going to jump down to Room 6."_

 _"Aw," said Audience Member #3, sneaking a look at a chart the storyteller was covering with a paw. "Coming back to Lymn later?"_

 _"Sorry," she answered, shifting to cover the chart more effectively. "Lymn isn't scheduled to appear on-screen until Round 4."_

 _"What?" asked the hooded figure, sounding surprised. "But... didn't you already...?"_

 _"Wrong wolf," explained Audience Member 4. "Lymn has a blindfold, not a ribbon."_

 _"Oh," said the hooded figure, disappointed. "Oh, well. Please do carry on."_

* * *

 **Round 1, Room 6**

* * *

Into Room 6 entered a dark-skinned gentleman in a light orange suit with spectacles, a mustache, and a red bow tie.

* * *

 _"Hold up," growled Audience Member #1, scratching his goatee. "Isn't this supposed to be Luc?"_

 _Audience Member #6 took the cue to start emanating theme music from beyond space and time._

 _"Er, it is," the storyteller replied, puzzled._

 _"Luc is very definitely white," the well-armed fellow pointed out._

 _"What? He is?"_

 _"Yeah. Come on, he's from Jeffreys. He got a tan at some point, but that's all. You couldn't tell?"_

 _"How, exactly, would I tell?" asked the blindfolded storyeller pointedly._

 _"Oh. Right. Uh... Narrator omniscience?"_

 _"Also," interrupted Audience Member #3 from within its hood, "did you mean that the_ suit _had spectacles, a mustache, and a red bow tie...?"_

 _The wolf cleared her throat and began again._

* * *

Into Room 6 entered a mustachioed and spectacled gentleman in a light orange suit with a red bow tie.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, then looked up and saw the room's occupant. "...Oh. I must have the wrong room."

The figure behind the table shrugged. "Maybe." Light glinted from dark glasses as it moved its head.

 **Luc Von Gott** squinted. "Wait a moment..." He removed his spectacles to polish them, then replaced them and stepped forward, eyes wide. "Servi?"

The red-haired gentleman behind the table took his staff in one hand and rose to his feet, smiling faintly. "It's good to see you again, Luc."

"This can't be," Luc whispered. "You died. More than three hundred years ago, I watched you die."

The red-haired man stepped around the table and extended his hand in greeting. "A true legend never dies. Servi lives on."

Luc started to step forward, but stopped at the strange choice of words. He reached out to take the man's hand, but for some reason, he couldn't quite grip it properly for a handshake. He looked at their hands, puzzled by their failure to correctly match up alongside one another.

"What's wrong?" asked the redhead.

"It's the wrong hand," Luc replied quietly. He stepped back and reached to his shoulder, activating a device of some sort. "Servi was right-handed. You extended your left, and you held your staff in your left hand, as well. Servi would've used his right. Who... who are you? How do you look so much like him?"

 **Sagas Seities** flinched as if struck. "I... I _am_ Servi," he said firmly.

* * *

 _Audience Member #5 squeaked softly as her jaw dropped._

* * *

"I am Servi's legend," Sagas continued. "I watched him his entire life, and now I am living the other side of it. I'm glad I could meet you, Luc. You meant so much to him. I wish for us—"

Luc held up a hand sharply and shook his head. "No. Whoever or whatever you are, I will not accept you by that name. The man you mimic is dead, and he died nobly. I..." His face softened. "I cannot fault your admiration. Relecour has never seen another like him. I should know. But I will not call you by his name, even if you have his face. I'm going to wait outside for the room change."

He turned to leave. Sagas reached out to stop him, forcing himself to reach out with his right hand.

Luc looked back, stopping the redhead in his tracks. "Oh, and... happy solstice, stranger."

The device on his shoulder clicked, and Luc disappeared into thin air.

* * *

 _"I'll let everyone take a few moments to refresh themselves," the wolf said. "The rounds are short, but we're about to go back to Room 1, and I don't want to get there before they're almost finished."_

 _Audience Member #6 handed out drinks with its numerous tentacles. Audience Member #5 declined, since her mouth had yet to close._

 _"Back to Room 1, then," the storyteller said after an appropriate interval._

* * *

 **Round 1, Room 1**

* * *

"Have a lovely evening, and do enjoy your solstice," remarked the gentleman with perfect hair and cunning, smiling eyes. He bowed and showed himself out.

"To you as well," Alumis replied cordially, curtseying until he was gone.

 _Why did he have to be so wretchedly perfect?_ Alumis moaned to herself, collapsing back into her chair. _That was unbelievably stressful! And the worst part was how_ nice _he was about it! But just_ dressing _like that makes me feel like I have to hold up someone else's standard for behavior. Which, sure, is normal, since I'm trying to act human, but etiquette is one more worry than I can pay attention to at one time!_

Alumis sighed aloud as someone knocked on the door.

"Hey there!" called her next date. "May I come in?"

 _Relax,_ she reminded herself. _It's no big deal. You don't have to impress anybody. It's just a casual conversation._

"Sure," she replied aloud.

A young fellow with grey hair entered, straightening his formal suit and doffing his top hat. "Good evening, my lady, and I hope you are having a pleasant solstice!"

Alumis swore under her breath.

* * *

 _"We can just leave them to themselves for Round 2, I think," the wolf decided. "There are some folks I'd like to catch up with in the meantime. Things are about to go south..."_


	2. Interlude 1: Galston House

_"Nooooooooo..." intoned **Audience Member #1** , an eldritch entity beyond time and space._

 _A blindfolded wolf tapped on the table in front of her with her paw. "To Gesselheim," she announced._

 _"Wuuuuunnnnn..." continued the intangible horror._

 _"The evening's feature presentation is already underway," the wolf continued. "We'll be joining it in progress."_

 _"...hates like Galston," Audience Member #1 began singing, "no one waits for Galston, no one ditches so many bad dates as Galston..."_

* * *

"Now, at lassst," roared a huge, black-armored knight with spikes pasted to its armor, "I HAVE YOU!"

The monstrous knight lunged sword-first at a little blonde girl, who dutifully screamed in terror.

"Won't somebody please save me?" the damsel cried out. "If only I had a _hero!_ "

* * *

 _"I was expecting blank verse," remarked **Audience Member #2** , a robed and hooded figure whose features lay entirely hidden in shadow. "Though it would have made it harder to write."_

 _"One of the actors had three specific provisions," the storyteller explained, "and the director has been thus far unable to convince him to break any of them."_

 _"I would like to hear about those, when there's a break," the hooded figure replied._

 _"Well, the first was, 'Nobody tellss me what I have to ssay,'" she recited, "'and if you give me liness, I get to ssay them how I want. No poemss, no sssinging, EVER.'"_

* * *

For a few precious, fleeting moments, **Heketch** convinced himself that the hero wouldn't show. Something would go wrong, and he'd actually get the girl on his talons. For once, it would be her, and not just a puppet or a broom or, as in one regrettable instance, a bidet. For once, he'd rip her to shreds and there would be real blood on his fingers, and the taste of her fear would fade into sweet, empty, death.

"Not today, monster!" cried the synthetic voice of a twelve-year-old boy.

Heketch sighed.

The hero of the story, a youth in shining white armor, rocketed into the monster from all the way across the theatre, slamming into it with enough force to launch it clear off the stage. The hero reversed direction in midair as soon as he reached the edge of the stage, returning to the spotlight with his arms raised in triumph.

"The monster is vanquished!" he crowed, turning around to face the audience on every side. "I'm the hero!"

Eventually, he caught a glimpse of the damsel in distress, who was tapping her foot impatiently.

The hero cleared his throat and spun to face her, dropping to a knee. "My lady!" he called out. "Are you all right?"

The blonde girl looked appropriately dazed. "Oh, my hero!" she replied, then became steadily more animated: "I was so afraid! You are truly a noble hero, and you saved me from that terrible monster—how can I ever repay you? Please, take me as your wife! Take my daughters as your wives! Take our whole family fortune—everything I own is yours! Anything at all is yours!"

The hero was blushing so furiously that it came through in his voice. "Uh... well... I, uh, I don't..."

"Please!" the damsel cried, throwing herself on him to cover the fact that she was kicking him repeatedly.

"Er, I mean, I require no reward!" the hero announced, remembering his lines. "I lust not for money, nor for women; peace and prosperity among all people are the only things I fight for!"

"Oh, my!" cried the damsel, falling away and looking up at him with a worshipful expression. "Then you are no mere hero, are you? You must be the greatest champion of all!"

"I am!" declared the hero, striking a pose. "I stand for unity, peace, and prosperity, and I fear nothing that stands in my way! I will defend my people at all costs! For I am the Legendary Hero Cairngort!"

He raised his arms again, and the audience (a motley collection of spectres, ghouls, and assorted undead) applauded wildly.

"Not bad!" remarked the damsel quietly. "Take a bow, **Clive**! Heketch, get up here!"

Heketch disappeared into the shadows inside his costume, stepping out of the damsel's shadow to stand beside her and the hero (who was grinning from ear to ear).

The girl raised her arms. Clive Melmont, the hero, took the hint and raised his; Heketch didn't, but a supernatural force took command a moment later, lifting them against his will. The trio bowed (or were pulled into a bow, in the Rasp's case) thrice, then exited the stage. The force released Heketch once they were out of the public eye.

"Sso you've really never heard of the legendary hero Cairngort?" Heketch asked as they made their way to the spacious backstage areas by means of various hidden passageways. If he hadn't been a Rasp, he might've sounded amused.

"No, not at all," Clive, the hero, replied. He had a spring in his step, so he was walking a little faster than either of his companions. "And I know a LOT of history. He must be a local legend or something. I know he wasn't one of the four legendary heroes that defeated the evil Overlord Rexan, so he can't be _that_ legendary, can he? I know a lot about history, after all!"

"Yesss, you ssaid that already," Heketch observed, exchanging a glance with the damsel.

"Oh, yes, Clive does know a lot about history," **Tanis Trilives** , the blonde girl, confirmed sagely. "All about Overlord Rexan, but not a thing about the Hero Cairngort. I suppose he must just be a local legend," she added with such an air of innocence that the Rasp had to smile.

Clive glanced back, caught Heketch's toothy smile, and immediately looked away, swallowing hard. "Hey, uh... thank you both for letting me participate! This place is supposed to be the greatest theatre in the world, but I never imagined I'd get to play a part on-stage!"

Tanis nodded. "Oh, of course! Heketch here is always happy to babysit." She glanced down at the puncture wounds that had suddenly appeared in her torso. "Happy, of course, is relative," she clarified.

"Jusst glad your guardian let you come," Heketch remarked, still glaring daggers at Tanis.

"Oh, Pop's doing something else tonight," Clive replied, nonchalant. "He said he didn't mind if I went to see a play. I'm big enough to do this sort of thing now," he added, deepening his voice in an attempt to sound mature.

"You certainly are!" Tanis replied, clapping her hands with delight. "And I'd love to have you here more often! I have so few corporeal actors, and there are so many great Cairngort tales you haven't heard yet. But we really must work on remembering your lines. So what I'd recommend we do first is..."

She continued talking as they walked down the corridor, detailing dozens of exercises and techniques that Clive would need to master if he wanted to be a Real Actor. He tried to listen, but a few seconds after she finished her explanation, he'd forgotten the whole thing.

* * *

 _"The second provision was: 'I get final ssay on cosstumess. I will never wear a dresss. I don't care what dresss it iss. I don't care how 'sscary' you ssay it iss. Never. Ever. Ever.'"_

 _"I imagine the production sans Rasp has more song and dance to it," mused Audience Member #2 from within his hood._

 _"She's tried to do musicals with the Rasp by making him a setpiece, instead of a performer," the storyteller remarked._

 _"How did that go?"_

 _"Setpiece-related fatalities—or attempted fatalities, in the case of her puppets—skyrocketed."_

 _"Must be a statistical anomaly." The hooded figure nodded sagely._

 _"Oh, yes," agreed the blindfolded wolf. "She cast him as a scarecrow once. The crow population has almost recovered to normal levels since then."_

 _"Crows are known to avoid places wherein a member of the flock has died," observed Audience Member #2. "Even for hundreds of years, they'll avoid places where just one crow was killed. I imagine there aren't any of them near the theatre."_

 _"Well," the storyteller began reluctantly, "That's true of normal crows, but these are Lesion crows. They do avoid areas of danger for a while, but eventually, they gather in force to reclaim them by any means necessary."_

 _"Any means?"_

 _"One of their favorite ways is to collect diseased carrion to rain death and plague over settlements they find offensive."_

 _Her audience was silent for a minute or two._

 _"Gesselheim is not a safe place, okay?" sighed the wolf. "Disclaimer given. Let's move on."_

 _"Safety is relative," the hooded figure pointed out._

 _"Moving on!"_

 _"Wait, wait!" the hooded figure protested again. "What about the third provision?"_

 _"Oh, that," the storyteller replied. "'If I have to fight something, I get to kill it.' Tanis routinely finds even more ways around that one than the other two. She usually just arranges to vanquish him in a single blow or by decree of script rather than by on-stage combat. Now, er... Where was I?"_

 _"Leaving Round 1 and starting Round 2?" Audience Member #2 offered._

 _"Close, but not quite," the wolf answered. "I think we'd better leave Round 2 alone. We'll move on to Round 3 instead."_

 _"Sounds good," said the hooded figure. "I'll be up for a while anyway, watching the stars and re-reading some old hymns. The devil is in the details, but the gods, surprisingly, are in the glottis."_

 _He began to hum quietly and steadily, and the blindfolded wolf resumed the story._


	3. Round 3

_"Round three," the blind wolf announced, looking like a referee poised to start a match. "...Date!"_

* * *

 **Round 3, Room 1**

* * *

"Again, it has been a true pleasure," **Jager** repeated, doffing his hat again.

"Likewise, I'm sure," replied **Alumis** , looking down demurely. "You shall be on your way, then?"

 _Would he_ stop _it with the hat?_ Alumis thought irritably.

 _Don't compliment her on her smell,_ Jager reminded himself. _Don't compliment her on her smell. Don't compliment her on her smell. She smells like the finest southern perfume, but_ don't _compliment her on her smell._

"Yes; I shall depart apace," Jager replied, then left the room and restored his hat to its rightful place.

Alumis shut the door behind him, then leaned against it and slid down.

 _This is ridiculous!_ she thought. _I'm having an etiquette overload—a manners meltdown! Please,_ please _let the next date be someone normal!_

 _Whew,_ Jager thought, sighing and relaxing his posture. _These ladies smell amazing! Weird that she smells kind of like a man, but a really nice-smelling man. I could just sit in these halls and sniff the air._

He started to inhale deeply, then stopped himself as he heard a door open from down the hall.

 _I... probably shouldn't, though,_ he thought with a sigh. He took out his schedule and checked his destination. _Next room is... Room 3. Man, I wonder if I could get any luckier._

The door to Room 1 swung open, momentarily displacing Alumis' form. Before the door could open far enough for her visitor to notice, she reappeared in the same chair she'd started in.

"Oh, hello!" said a willowy woman with pink hair and thick spectacles. "I'm Marmelee. It's nice to meet you!" She strode forward casually, offering her hand in greeting.

Alumis blinked.

 _...Now it's too_ casual _for me to know how to behave! I hate humanity!_

* * *

 **Round 3, Room 3**

* * *

Jager knocked on the door to Room 3. When there was no response, he knocked again. After a moment, he opened the door.

"Good evening, my lady!" he began, then halted abruptly as he met the eyes of the wolf seated across the table from him. "...Oh, dear. This certainly wasn't supposed to happen. They said they wouldn't match us as long as we entered with the same last name!"

* * *

 _"Called it," remarked_ _ **Audience Member #1**_ _, a robed and hooded figure whose features were completely concealed._

* * *

The wolf tilted her head.

"Well, of course I did," Jager replied. "Didn't you?"

The wolf nodded.

"How did you spell it?" Jager shook his head. "Right, silly question. Do you have your schedule? It should have the entry name on it."

The wolf turned her head and tugged a piece of paper out from where it was tucked into the faded yellow ribbon around her neck. She dropped it onto the table, and the gentleman set his schedule beside it. The two scanned them like they'd scanned countless maps and journals over the years, but this one was significantly easier to decode.

"You mis-spelled our last name," Jager sighed, pointing. "It's Brandtford. B-R-A-N-D."

The wolf scowled at him.

"No, you didn't!" he protested. "Look, see? You spelled it with an umlaut."

She shook her head.

"It does too matter!" Jager said firmly. "It's my _first_ name that has the umlaut. I leave it off because nobody knows what it means. Our last name _never_ had an umlaut."

The wolf growled.

"Of course it means something!" Jager threw up his hands. "It tells you how to pronounce it! Without the umlaut, my name would be 'Yagger.' Or 'Yogger.' And if you put an umlaut over the A in our last name, then it's not 'Brandtford,' it's 'Brainedtford.'"

* * *

 _"Wait, is that true?" asked the hooded figure._

 _"I'm pretty sure it's pronounced Jäger," the wolf replied, "but I wouldn't know for sure."_

 _"Ah, right: Rorschach test," recalled the audience member, and the storyteller nodded in affirmation. "I do linguistics as a pastime, so I had to wonder."_

* * *

The wolf stuck her tongue out.

"It does too—" Jager sighed. "Fine. It's not that bad a problem, anyway. Since we'd only get one real date between the two of us, we're only losing one date. It's my date, but I've already had two excellent dates, so I don't really mind. What about you?"

She shook her head, growling softly.

"Well, it is your fault, anyway," her brother reminded her. "If you hadn't insisted on changing at that exact moment, we'd still be in sync. Now we have to wait for another full moon to line them back up."

The wolf growled.

"Point taken," her date replied. "But I think it still caused more hassle than it saved. Anyway, it's my turn to have three terrible dates, so it's your turn to have three good ones, right?"

The wolf grunted.

The two were silent for a few moments. Then, Jager piped up: "Okay, I _have_ to tell you what this girl smelled like. She—"

Karin barked quietly.

"Is not!" he argued.

* * *

 _"And on they went," the storyteller finished. "Let's go to a different room. How about... Room 5? Haven't visited this one yet."_

 _"Can I see that chart again?" asked the hooded figure._

 _"Rooms are allocated to the 'girls' alphabetically." The storyteller slid her paw to one side, revealing part of the matchup chart. "So Alumis is in Room 1, Iri is in Room 2, and so on. The 'guys' move from room to room between rounds."_

 _"We're going to be with Alumis a lot tonight, it seems," Audience Member #1 observed._

 _"Not necessarily for very long at a time, though," the storyteller replied. "She won't appear again in Round 3, for instance. Jager shows up quite a few times, too, but the chart is misleading in some ways. For example..."_

* * *

 **Round 3, Room 5**

* * *

"Excuse me?"

"Hm?" A purple-haired woman snapped closed the cover of her pocketwatch. She wore light, practical attire with decorations that looked as magical as they were appealing. "Sorry, what?"

"I said, excuse me," repeated her date, a pointy-eared fellow with green hair, heavy clothing, and a sneer. "I'm trying to talk here."

"Yes, I see that," remarked the woman, eyeing him coolly.

"It is rude to ignore someone who is speaking to you," the green-haired fellow pointed out haughtily.

"Yes, I suppose that's true," the woman agreed. "But you're a jerk."

The man stiffened. "Excuse me? Have I been anything less than polite, in any way? You are the one who has behaved with outright rudeness, ignoring me as I attempt to talk—"

"—to talk about yourself for the next eight minutes, yes," finished the woman. " **Baenvier** , I'll give you a chance, but then you'll only be horrible to me, so I'd rather wait to give you the chance until I'm in a mood to put up with it." She thought for a moment. "Sorry? Yes. Sorry, I think."

Baenvier's eyes flashed with outrage, and he stood from his chair. "How _dare_ you, Acktern?" he demanded. "To speak to your better in such a way!"

"It's **Welsie** ," the woman corrected. "You see," she continued as if explaining something to a third party, "this is the whole problem with him. He thinks he's better than everyone else. Better than magic-users, dragons, gods, the living, and women, just because he's so 'self-reliant.'"

* * *

 _"Goodness," the hooded figure quipped, "someone should get a carpenter to look at that fourth wall."_

* * *

"Who are you talking to?" the curse knight growled.

"Just leaving myself a note," Welsie replied, then went back to talking to the air. "Anyway, he's handsome as the devil, but the devil has more class. Poor fellow here is the most refined lump of vinegar any girl could hope to choke on. Don't put yourself through it until you have to, all right?"

"Are you quite finished?" he asked, fuming.

"Yes, and my date will be here in a few moments," she said casually. "So please see yourself out."

"What fool-headed—" he started, then cleared his throat and resumed a civil tone. "Dear girl," he said condescendingly, "I'm sure I'm not mistaken. This is my room for this round."

"No," Welsie answered flatly, "it's mine, and I'm kicking you out of it. Surely the other girls weren't so pathetic as to let you stick around for the whole round, were they? Shoo. Off you go." She gestured dismissively.

"I'll have you know that—"

"Oh, they were? Poor things," Welsie tittered, then added, "Well, if you must stay, then I will go."

Without another word, she swept past him, leaving the room.

"H-Hey!" he called, turning and leaving the room to follow after. "You can't just leave!"

There was a faint clicking sound, and a mustachioed gentleman appeared in midair facing the door. He straightened his bow tie and turned around.

"Hello there, **Luc** ," sighed the purple-haired woman in the chair behind the table.

"Hello," he replied nervously. "Sorry I'm late. Welsie, right?"

"Don't ask—" Welsie started to reply automatically, then caught herself. "I mean, yes. It's fine, it took me a while to get rid of the jerk who was here before you. But I can't say I'm glad to see you. I thought I told you—"

"Not a word," he assured her. "You look quite lovely tonight."

Welsie blinked. "You're... not asking questions?"

"One or two," he admitted. "First, and of greatest importance: are you enjoying your evening?"

She smiled, relieved. "I thought you were jumping the gun by showing up this early, but I guess we've already spoken."

"I'm not at liberty to say," he replied with a wink. "Now, are you enjoying yourself? Because if not, my second question is how to ensure that you will."

Welsie laughed a pleasant, sparkling laugh, and the two held a pleasant, casual conversation, up until their time was almost up.

* * *

 _"Are we missing something?" wondered the Hooded Figure. "I feel like we're coming in on the wrong part of the story."_

 _"Continuity's a mess where time travelers are involved," admitted the Blind Wolf. "They've each been through a few different versions of this scene, but this is the final take, as it were."_

* * *

"I'll see you later, I suppose," Welsie remarked. "But first, you owe me a kiss."

"Er, pardon?" he asked, blushing. "Isn't this our first date?"

"Or third, depending on how you count it," she mused aloud. "Anyway, I want the third one to be decent."

"Are you sure that—"

"Don't ask questions," she interrupted, moving swiftly around the table to kiss him first. Being their first kiss (and rather unexpected for him), it was nothing special, but she'd already known that would be the case. Getting in the practice was the main thing.

"Er—I—ah—" he stuttered.

"On you go," said Welsie, checking her pocketwatch. "You'll run late again."

* * *

 _"All right, that's Room 5! Let's take another break. Maybe I should call it a night," the storyteller admitted. "I'm getting tired, and the last time I went on this long, everyone was asleep by the end of it."_

 _"I'm awake!" chirped the hooded figure crisply._

 _Both of them took a moment to look around. Snoozing audience members were sprawled around the area in various positions._

 _"Are you even capable of sleep?" asked the blindfolded wolf._

 _Her lone conscious audience member shrugged. "I dunno. Never seemed important."_

 _"I'll stop for now," the storyteller decided, "and continue when everyone's had a chance to rest."_

 _"Oh, all right," sighed the hooded figure. "But I'll wait here. I don't want to miss Lymn's date."_

 _The storyteller tilted her head. "I'm not going on to Round 4 next, though. There's a little place I want to look in on first."_

 _The hooded figure didn't budge. "Even so," he declared, "I don't want to risk missing it."_

 _The blindfolded wolf shrugged and left, leaving the hooded figure to wait patiently by himself._


	4. Interlude 2: Prodigal Pyre Romancer

_"Look at—" began Audience Member #1, but the storyteller raised a paw to interrupt._

 _"Hold on," said the storyteller, frowning. "I'll never be able to keep track of anyone if I let things go on like this. Start again, please."_

 _"Uh... okay. Look at my new costume!" cried the_ _ **Tentacle Tamer**_ _, an incomprehensible being from beyond time and space._

 _"Much better," sighed the_ _ **Blind Wolf**_ _._

 _Ethereal tentacles flexed against a fanciful leotard, contorting the costume's flexible fabric. "It looks like the superhero with the mammaries!" the Tentacle Tamer continued._

 _"There's more than one of those," pointed out the_ _ **Fan Girl**_ _, a willowy, spectacled woman with long, ping hair. "But, why would you get a costume that's designed to fit humans?"_

 _"It was cheap," the entity replied. "They were having a spring cleaning sale."_

 _The storyteller looked around. A masked man was engaged in a heated rules debate with the_ _ **Hooded Figure**_ _, who hadn't moved since she'd left him standing there the previous evening. She cleared her throat._

 _"Ah, not to interrupt, but since there are quite a few of you here, is anyone interested in continuing the story?"_

 _"No one's stopping you," pointed out the entity who only manifested as bundles of ethereal tentacles. "I'm just squeezing my tentacles into a costume. Shouldn't distract anybody."_

 _"As long as it's your own," the Blind Wolf muttered._

 _The Fan Girl blushed and buried her face in one of her many body pillows. She said something, but it was too muffled to make out._

 _"Huh?" inquired the entity. "What? I didn't hear either of you."_

 _"Never mind," the storyteller said dismissively. "Here we go!"_

* * *

A worried-looking fellow carrying a covered jar ran into a restaurant on the strange side of Kor Karoli, his eyes darting about rapidly. He spotted the fiery red hair he was looking for, straightened his unkempt appearance, and walked to the table for two that had a seat reserved for him.

 **Arec Russell Zane** stood nervously and waited for his date to look up. After several seconds, she did.

"You're a little late," **Kallistar Flarechild** remarked calmly.

"Yeah. Sorry," Arec replied, still nervous. He was wearing an outfit little different from his norm, but he had managed to straighten out most of the wrinkles, at least.

* * *

 _The_ _ **Little Ghoul**_ _, a red-haired child with long, blonde hair, slipped into the back of the seating area and leaned forward. She hurriedly opened a playbill and began reading, trying to listen at the same time._

 _"We're on Interlude #2," the Tentacle Tamer whispered loudly. "There's supposed to be two special guests!"_

 _"I know that," hissed the Little Ghoul. "I'm just catching up on what I missed."_

* * *

"It's fine, I've only been here a few minutes." Kallistar was wearing a pale green dress, inexpensive but incredibly flattering. She noticed the jar and smiled faintly. "You stopped for flowers?"

Arec nodded, blushing. "It took a little longer than I thought. They don't usually let people buy fireflowers without a permit."

"Fireflowers?" A wide smile brightened her relaxed demeanor. "That's wonderful! I've been wanting to liven up the dueling grounds, and almost nothing is hardy enough to last. Thank you, Arec."

Arec finally let himself relax and smiled in turn. He carefully set the jar on the table, then took his seat. "Oh, good! I'm glad you like them."

Kallistar picked up the menu. It was fairly large, and the name of the restaurant was printed in comically small letters on the front: The Little Place. She cracked it open and raised an eyebrow, surprised.

The left side of the menu had only one item listed:

House Special  
(market price)

And the right, another:

Anything Else*  
(market price)

The menu had only those two pages, and nothing else was written in it except for a disclaimer at the bottom of the right-hand page:

*All requests are made to order at your own risk. Please allow ten to twenty minutes for delivery.

"Huh," she mused. "Who did you say recommended this place?"

* * *

 _The Little Ghoul looked up from her playbill and laughed belatedly._

 _"Aren't you caught up yet?" asked the Tentacle Tamer, drawing everyone's attention to the girl._

 _"Are you kidding?" she demanded, then noticed everyone looking at her. "Don't mind me, please," the girl added said with a look so innocent, it was downright suspicious._

* * *

Arec hadn't managed to take his eyes off of her, but when she looked up and met his eyes, he snapped out of it. "Oh! Sorry! I don't remember. You look amazing in that dress, Flareflower."

Kallistar chuckled at the pet name. "Thanks. It's nothing, special, though. Just one of the only flame-retardant ones they had on hand at the store. Most of my dresses don't last long, you know?"

* * *

 _The Little Ghoul clapped her hands in glee._

 _"Ah," stated the Hooded Figure mournfully, "the woes and predicaments of the flame-inclined."_

 _"Where DO you get one of those, anyway?" the blonde ghost asked suddenly. "We need them for the costuming department!"_

 _"If there's demand," the Hooded Figure replied in the same mournful tone, "I'm sure supply will match."_

 _The ghost started to reply, then fell silent and eyed the Hooded Figure carefully, trying to judge whether the pun had been intentional._

 _Meanwhile, the Fan Girl snickered. "'Flarefire,'" she misquoted. "Surely doesn't beat 'sweetbolt.'"_

* * *

Her smile faded, and a distant look entered her eyes. She looked away, and Arec began to feel a rising sense of dread.

 _That was the wrong thing to say!_ he thought in a panic. _I need a distraction!_

"What may I order for you?" asked a new voice, startling them both. A nondescript waiter was standing beside the table. Neither of them had any idea how long he'd been there.

* * *

 _The_ _ **Masked Immortal**_ _, a narrow-featured man veiled and mantled in the essence of shadow, bridged his hands. "And this is the part," he predicted in a smooth voice, "where I learn about an incident which will make me send some hapless errand boy to give detention to the student involved. Well, that saves me the effort of deciding where to send the next graduate student who bothers me, at the very least."_

 _"Wait, who invited the fuddy-duddy?" piped up the Little Ghoul, oblivious to the masked man's monologue._

 _The Masked Immortal shot her a cold glare._

 _"Huh? No, wait!" the ghost cried, shrinking back. "I didn't hear—that's not what I—the waiter! I meant the waiter!"_

 _She buried her nose in her playbill, trying to avoid the Immortal's eyes._

 _"Hey," she said after a moment. "Round 2 isn't in here! Did I show up that late?"_

 _"Not exactly," the Blind Wolf answered. "Round 2 is missing intentionally. You missed Round 3, but you're just in time for the second interlude."_

* * *

 _Strange way to put it,_ thought Kallistar. "Steak," she answered, handing over the menu. "Raw, cold, uncooked. Got it?"

The waiter nodded. "And you, sir?"

"Uh," Arec stalled, flipping open the menu. _What the heck?_ "House special's fine," he said hurriedly, closing the menu and setting it aside.

The waiter simply nodded again. "Certainly." He left with both menus in hand. No-one noticed the second one leave the table.

Arec tried to meet Kallistar's eyes, but her gaze eluded him. "Sorry. Should I not have brought it up?"

She sighed. "It's not that. I'd rather we talk about things than not talk about things. But I was never angry with you, Arec. I'm surprised you didn't realize that."

"You weren't mad? Even though I, uh..." _Even though I practically admitted that I don't care about anyone except myself?_ finished a voice in the back of his mind.

"Arec," Kallistar said firmly, meeting his eyes with sudden intensity. "If I'm mad, you'll know it. And so will the rest of the city, since we'll have it out on the spot if you do something to bring down my wrath."

Arec swallowed, but couldn't think of anything to say.

* * *

 _"Amen," the Little Ghoul affirmed solemnly._

* * *

"But," Kallistar continued, relaxing her pose and looking away, "I know how much pain anger can cause. Not just for someone else, but for myself, as well. If you aren't trying to hurt me, you don't deserve my anger. And if you are, I deserve better than to give it to you."

Arec looked confused. "If you're not angry, then... What's wrong? Kal, I don't understand. Help me, please." He couldn't explain it, but he sensed her distance. It frustrated him that he couldn't see what was causing her to act this way, and the temptation to push her emotions in the "right" direction was stronger than ever.

* * *

 _"You fool!" called the_ _ **Mad Scientist**_ _, a white-haired man in a blue coat who was scribbling frantically on his playbill. "You're playing right into her plan!"_

 _"Arec just doesn't get girls, does he?" sighed the blonde ghost._

 _"Or anyone," agreed the Hooded Figure, munching on something which resembled popcorn._

* * *

 _You need this relationship to work,_ Arec heard himself think. _You need her! Nobody else knows you enough to love you, and she loves you in spite of how well she knows you. You just need to help her get over this. She's upset. You can fix that. Make everything better._

The temptation crowded out every other thought, and he looked at her with dazzling power in his gaze. She returned his look with a calm, expectant gaze, and he felt the magic begin to rise within him.

* * *

 _"NOOOOOO!" cried the Little Ghoul, rising from her seat._

 _The Blind Wolf paused, savoring her audience's anticipation, then continued: "Meanwhile, in the kitchen..."_

 _"You jerk!" jeered the ghost, throwing a ghostly tomato which passed through the storyteller without resistance. "Don't change the subject! WHAT HAPPENED TO KALLISTAR?!"_

 _The Blind Wolf just smiled, and the Little Ghoul sat back down with a flounce._

 _"Wait, wait! What happened to Kalli?!" demanded the pink-haired Fan Girl._

 _The Blind Wolf's smile widened._

 _"Could I get a seat in the 'no petulant children' section during your next tale, please?" requested the Masked Immortal._

 _"I asked who invited you!" said the ghost girl, turning on him. "No-one gave me an answer!"_

 _The Immortal merely raised a dubious eyebrow in response, and a chill climbed up her ghostly spine._

 _"I'm not sure he needs an invite to be here," the Hooded Figure suggested._

 _"No-one invites him," the Blind Wolf confirmed. "But no-one turns him away."_

 _"Just let him stay," the Fan Girl said, shushing the ghost._

 _"Fine," grumbled the Little Ghoul, pouting. "But go back to Kallistar!"_


	5. Interlude 2: Made to Order

"So your brother tells me you're a hard worker, but inexperienced. Is that about right?" asked the chef, a heavy-set man with a toolbelt full of culinary gear.

"Yes, Chef Mister **Tegusgan** ," replied the bright-eyed, blonde-haired girl in front of him. "I've never worked in food service before."

"It's just Chef, or Tegusgan," the chef corrected, handing her the end of a rope that was anchored to the wall. "I didn't mean food service. You're not a big-time fighter. Your brother said he wasn't even sure what style you're using. Is that right?"

She looked at the rope in some confusion. "Uh... That's right, Chef. May I ask why it matters...?"

He walked across the kitchen, and she hurried to keep up, letting out slack so she could bring the rope along.

"You'll just be assisting for now, then," he explained, picking up a fork the size of a harpoon and affixing it to one of the straps on his shoulder. "We opened a few minutes ago, so any minute the orders will start coming in, and you'll see what I mean. **Claus** , come here, please," he called, and a shrimpy fellow with wild orange hair rushed over.

"Claus, this is **Sami Rekar** ," Tegusgan said, gesturing at the girl. "Sami, this is Eloi Claus. You'll be taking a position much like his, so learn the ropes from him while you have the chance."

The chef walked back to where the rope was anchored, not even giving the two time to make eye contact or shake hands. He seized a handle in the floor and pulled, yanking open a large trapdoor that led into empty blackness.

"This," explained the chef, "is the little place we're named for. If it doesn't know what you want, it's stable."

He stepped onto the blackness and stomped his foot loudly, demonstrating that there was some kind of surface there.

"But when we get an order in—" he began, then noticed that a scrap of paper had been placed in his hand at some point while he'd been talking. "Ah, thanks, **Simon** ," he called, assuming the waiter would hear him.

* * *

 _The_ _ **Planebound**_ _, an aged elemental with earthen features and a gleaming, crystalline eye, did a spit-take._

 _"SIMON is the waiter?!" he demanded._

 _"There are a lot of people named Simon," the **Blind Wolf** replied cautiously._

 _The elemental didn't seem to notice. "Hell's butler waits tables in his off time?" he repeated in a daze._

 _"I cannot confirm or deny," the storyteller answered, then continued the story._

* * *

Looking back at Sami and Eloi, the chef continued: "When we get an order, we tell it what we want..."

He stepped away from the trapdoor and shot them a look which warned them to do the same. Sami followed Eloi's lead and stepped back, thoroughly confused.

Tegusgan dropped the scrap of paper onto the darkness. The paper vanished, then the darkness shimmered and gave way to a vertical drop: a smooth tunnel led straight down into the earth. The walls of the tunnel gleamed with myriad crystals.

Sami couldn't resist leaning over for a better look. She caught a glimpse of the ground beyond the end of the shaft, and she thought she saw moving shadows in the depths.

"...And it gives us what we want," the chef finished, grinning. "Marvelous little planar anomaly, isn't it? Not a very large opening, though. We've expanded it a bit, but I need a half-dozen more planar scientists to work on this thing before I can really get into catering."

* * *

 _"I see," mused the **Masked Immortal**. "That's what they did with the place, is it...? Respectable enough, I suppose."_

* * *

He took the end of the rope from Sami, wrapped it around his waist, and tied it securely. Then he passed part of the slack back to her and gestured at Eloi, who quickly shared it.

"Pull up when I give two sharp tugs," he explained. Then, with a rueful chuckle, "And please don't drop me on my head. It's terrible for my hat."

Then, supported by Sami and Eloi, he lowered himself into the pit, descending quickly down the crystal walls. When he reached the bottom, they simply began feeding slack into the pit as needed.

All was quiet for a few minutes, so Sami felt the need to say or ask something, but she couldn't figure out what question to ask first. This was probably the strangest thing she'd seen all week.

* * *

 _"Woah!" exclaimed the_ _ **Monocle Guy**_ _, a blue-haired fellow with a monocle and a key-shaped earring. "You people are still awake?"_

 _"It's story time," explained the Planebound._

 _"I see, I see," replied the monocled man. "I'm happy. Didn't think anybody would be up when I got back."_

 _"I don't knock them out_ every _time," the Blind Wolf retorted._

 _The Monocle Guy sat down next to the **Little Ghoul** to compare notes, and the story continued._

* * *

"So who's your brother?" Eloi asked at length. "I heard he put in a good word for you."

Sami started to answer, but was interrupted by a series of quiet thunks coming from above. Surprised, she looked up.

"Is that a corkboard on the ceiling?" she asked.

"Yeah," Eloi replied. "Hold the rope alone for a moment, I need to get those notes."

He reached out over the pit and pulled three trimming knives from where they were embedded in the ceiling. Each had a piece of paper around it, which he unfolded and read aloud.

"'Eloi, preheat oven to 11 nattish fireballs.' Okay, I'd better get that started."

* * *

 _"Nattish?" questioned the blonde-haired ghost._

* * *

Sami had noticed that the oven looked quite small and lonely, taking up an entire restaurant wall by itself, but it made more sense now that she knew they didn't have to bother actually cooking anything. Eloi tinkered with a device on the wall, and a warm, red glow came to life within the oven.

"What's he mean, 'nattish?'" she asked aloud as Eloi unfolded the next scrap of paper.

* * *

 _"Oh!" said the ghost. "Thanks, Sami!"_

* * *

"Oh, it's a culinary term," he explained. "Let's see, this one says... 'House Special, thick hide meat. Wire razor to shave before serve.' Easy enough." He reached into a drawer and withdrew a small implement shaped like a tuning fork, but with a string connecting the tips.

"What's it mean?" Sami asked, then lurched forward as something pulled on the rope. She looked down into the opening and was shocked to find that the crystals had lost their light entirely, plunging the pit into shadow. She swallowed. "Hey, uh, is this normal?"

"'Nattish' is a type of fireball that burns hot, slow, and smokeless," Eloi explained, setting the wire razor down on a large countertop. "I think the term came from 'Natural Magick,' since two of the other culimantic fireballs are 'sorcerous' and 'rubbish.'"

* * *

 _"Rubbish," the Little Ghoul repeated, giggling._

 _"I never expected to be this confused by a cooking scene," stated the Planebound._

 _"Depressingly," admitted the **Hooded Figure** , "this is making more sense to me than actual cooking."_

* * *

He leisurely unfolded the last scrap of paper as he made his way over to her.

"Rubbish?" she wondered.

"Yeah," he said. "Sorcerous fireballs are big and explosive. Most styles don't consider them useful in cooking, but Chef Tegusgan is, uh... unorthodox. And no, that's not normal," he answered, looking into the pit.

"It—it's not?" she asked, suddenly fearful. She peered into the darkness as Eloi finished opening the last piece of paper. She had a distinct feeling that the darkness was getting closer. "Then what are we supposed to do?"

Eloi looked unsurprised as he scanned the contents of the third note. "'Coming up fast. Wide door oven, stand clear. Sticky.'"

* * *

 _"Sticky?" chorused several of the audience members in confusion._

 _"It seems pretty reasonable to me," observed the masked man mantled in darkness._

 _The Planebound stroked his chin. "What are 'rubbish' fireballs, though?"_

 _"We probably don't want to know," pointed out the Hooded Figure._

 _"Maybe they're just for burning trash?" tried the Planebound. "Rubbish doesn't really sound much like any of the schools."_

 _"Or they're just trashy fireballs," suggested the Little Ghoul._

 _The Hooded Figure held up five fingers (which were still concealed by his robes) and counted off the disciplines: "Sorcery, Natural Magick, Plain Science, Mississippi, and Disparity."_

 _The elemental cleared his throat. "Ah, I don't think those are the schools of magic..."_

* * *

He walked over to the device on the wall, then looked at her and gestured.

"You don't want to be between that pit and this wall," he said. "And as for what we're supposed to do, we play it by ear."

She moved to the other side of the pit, still struggling against whatever was pulling on it, and Eloi slammed his hand on the device. The entire wall lowered into the ground, sending a wave of heat into the room and revealing an oven vastly larger than the tiny appliance it had first appeared.

"Same thing Chef always does," Eloi finished, looking uncomfortable but unsinged.

Sami gaped, then yelped as countless eyes opened in the darkness beneath her. A chitinous, long-haired claw reached out of the pit, and huge fangs emerged into view from the shadows.

Abruptly, the monster jerked back, then fell away, pulled sharply from behind. She caught a glimpse of something metal embedded in its back as it tumbled down the shaft, legs cracking on contact with the crystal walls, and smashed against the ground far beneath.

The next moment, she felt two sharp tugs on the rope. She hauled like there was no tomorrow, and Eloi immediately joined her.

Chef Tegusgan pulled himself out of the pit one-handed as soon as he was in reach of the lip, but, strangely, he was no longer anchored to the end of the rope. The slack ran into the darkness, and the rustling sound of countless creatures echoed from what sounded like cavernous chambers below.

In his other hand, he held a small silver platter with a dome lid. He handed this to the waiter, who bowed and departed as imperceptibly as he had arrived.

* * *

 _"Oh man, that's the best!" exclaimed the blonde ghost with a squee of delight. "I see Chef is worth his salt!"_

* * *

That finished, he pushed his employees out of the way and seized the rope in both hands, hauling it in at an impressive rate—even more impressive when the end of the rope cleared the pit, since the end was tied to a hook that was embedded in the exoskeleton of the monster Sami had shoved back down the shaft.

He heaved the wriggling monster free of the pit and into the massive oven, yanking the hook free in the same fluid motion, then shouted something to Eloi, who was already standing ready at another control panel. The oven wall slammed shut before the monstrous spider could writhe its way out, and Eloi and Tegusgan breathed a sigh of relief.

The creatures below had begun to climb the shaft, but Tegusgan simply slammed shut and reopened the trapdoor, and the crystalline shaft was replaced by the same solid blackness as before the order had been placed.

"Wh—what was that?" Sami half-shouted, still tense from adrenaline.

"Made to order," Tegusgan replied easily, moving to the sink to clean the implements he'd used.

* * *

 _"Cooking must be an exciting thing in Indines!" observed the pink-haired **Fan Girl**._

 _"Is there a dimension full of steak?" wondered the Planebound. "You would think I would know about that. An Exemplary Steak Plane Collapse would shut down every restaurant on the continent."_

* * *

"But—how—" Sami took a moment to settle on a question. "If the customer's order was on the platter, why did you just throw a giant spider into the oven?!"

"For the House Special," Eloi answered as Tegusgan skimmed another order from the waiter.

Tegusgan grinned, finished wiping down his tools, and walked back to the trapdoor. "Next order, at the ready!" he called, and dropped the scrap of paper.

* * *

 _"Dinner and a show," chuckled the blonde ghost._

 _"Tegusgan may be a renegade culimancer," the Blind Wolf remarked, "but he's a master of his bizarre craft, no doubt about that. All right, I think we can go back to Arec and Kallistar now."_


	6. Interlude 2: A Spark Ignites

_"I wonder what sort of nadir Arec has dug himself into by this point," the **Hooded Figure** sighed._

 _"He's probably replaced himself with a clone," said the **Planebound** elemental._

 _"He'd better have," agreed the **Little Ghoul** , "or Kallistar IS going to be angry." She thought for a moment. "Actually, she'll probably be angry anyway."_

 _"They're right where we left them," the **Blind Wolf** assured them, then resumed the story._

* * *

 **Arec** shut his eyes and looked away, almost whimpering from the effort.

* * *

 _"Yay!" cheered the Little Ghoul. "Good choice, Arec!"_

 _"I was expecting a Whiny Dash," muttered the Planebound._

* * *

"There it was," **Kallistar** murmured. "I saw it in your eyes. I see it more and more these days. You wanted to change my mind. Why didn't you?"

The boy across the table from her sighed heavily. He was weary, and it aged him strangely. "I'd lose you," he answered. "As soon as I did it, I'd lose you, and I'd never get you back."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Not if you made me stay."

Arec shook his head. "It wouldn't be you if I did."

* * *

 _"Wait, 'quirk?'" The Planebound frowned and withdrew a dictionary from the folds of space-time. "Is that a word?"_

 _"Wait," the Hooded Figure mused aloud. "Wait... Yes... Carry the two... Nope. Utter and complete doom," he announced, sounding pleased._

 _"Ooh!" the Little Ghoul proclaimed, clapping her hands. "Arec's getting character development!"_

 _"Yay for character development!" cheered the pink-haired **Fan Girl**._

 _The Planebound closed his dictionary. "Huh, didn't know that was a verb. And yeah, loads of character development," he agreed, "but he still hasn't gotten his Nerf."_

* * *

Kallistar eyed him for a long moment, as if trying to decide on something. Arec avoided her gaze.

She started to speak, then noticed that her steak was on the table in front of her, exactly as she'd ordered.

"I think we should talk," Kallistar said slowly. Her steak sizzled as she cut into it. "Why are we dating, Arec?"

* * *

 _The Fan Girl covered her mouth. "Oh man," she whispered through her hands. "The big question."_

 _"I am so sorry, Arec," said the blonde ghost solemnly. After a moment, she burst into gales of laughter. "No, haha, wait! Hahaha! I'm not! Haha, not at all!" She began singing a song which seemed to overemphasize the phrase "he had it coming."_

 _The **Mad Scientist** made some rapid calculations. "There's a 7.2 percent chance of him saying exactly the right thing," he decided._

 _"I make it 5 percent," the Fan Girl corrected grimly._

 _"I couldn't say," admitted the elemental with the crystal eye. "I'm just plane tired tonight."_

* * *

Arec fought back waves of panic that bordered on nausea, then shouted down the voice in his head that demanded he take the easy way out. "What do you mean? We like each other. We always have, right?"

She shook her head. "Not what I mean, Zane."

Arec flinched at the name.

* * *

 _"Ooh," murmured the Little Ghoul appreciatively, "she IS good."_

 _The pink-haired Fan Girl mumbled to herself: "You know he's dead."_

 _"Wow," said the Hooded Figure, impressed. "That was so harsh that... let me check..." He tossed another handful of the popcorn-like substance into his hood. "Yep. She burned my popcorn, too."_

 _"I give him a fifty-fifty chance of pulling out a dumb 'hot' pun right about now," guessed the Planebound._

* * *

"Your name alone gets you almost any girl on campus, and your skills guarantee any _other_ girl. Compared to you, I'm a nobody. You were interested in me even before I was president of the Dueling Club. I wasn't all that interested in _you_ at the time, but I'm not asking about me. I want to know why _you_ are dating _me_. Think carefully."

Arec tried to sort through what she was saying. "I... I don't get it." He looked up, his eyes pleading. "What are you asking? Isn't it obvious? You're beautiful, Kal. Like no-one I've ever met."

* * *

 _"Bzzzzt!" the blonde ghost blared. "Wrong answer!"_

 _The Fan Girl shoveled a handful of fresh popcorn into her mouth, accidentally eating a lock of thick, pink hair._

* * *

"I'm asking you to look at yourself," she explained patiently. "You don't think about anything, if you can help it. So think about your feelings for once."

 _What is she trying to make you do?_ came the voice in his thoughts. _She wants you to question yourself. She's pushing you toward something. Don't let her control you!_

Arec's expression hardened.

"I hate looking into my own head," he said flatly, his voice cold. "I hate introspection. I hate thinking about feelings and thinking and things. You know that."

She nodded. Strangely, she seemed pleased by his reaction, not put off.

"I do know that," she agreed. "And I understand that this is hard for you. You're a master of telling people what they want or how they feel. You have no idea how to simply _ask,_ and you never answer those questions for yourself, either."

He shook his head. "How could you understand?" _What was she aiming for?_ demanded the voice, and its hostility crept into his tone. "If you want something, just say it. I'm sick of being manipulated. Are you going to break up with me if I don't 'look at myself,' or whatever it is you want me to do? You think being the only girl I care about means I owe you something?"

* * *

 _"Oh my," gasped the Little Ghoul. "He's not very good at this, but Kallistar_ is _."_

 _"I wonder when he'll realize he said it," muttered the white-haired Mad Scientist, still scribbling frantically. "I say next Wednesday."_

 _"Like I said," said the ghost, "Kallistar is_ good _."_

 _"Sorry," sighed the old man with earthen features. "This is gripping, but I'm super tired. I'm going to collapse my plane, then just plain collapse."_

 _The group bid him fare-well, and he disappeared through a rift._

* * *

To Arec's surprise, Kallistar looked sad, not angry. Also to his surprise, a large plate with a chunk of steaming black meat had been set in front of him at some point.

He looked at the meal, plainly baffled. "What... did I order?"

The fiery-eyed girl in the green dress simply shrugged. "You didn't pay attention to your choice, so someone made it for you."

Arec nodded and picked up his silverware, then froze as the double meaning set in.

"I'm not threatening you, Arec," Kallistar continued, sensing that the iron was as hot as it would get. "I'm asking you to take a good, long look into your own heart, but it's not for my sake. You don't owe me a thing, and I won't break up with you if you refuse. It just means things aren't going to change between us."

* * *

 _The Fan Girl sipped a cup of tea, feigning distraction._

 _The Little Ghoul grimaced. "I can't watch. Keep going! I think I'm falling in love with Kallistar."_

 _"I am, too," seconded the pink-haired woman from behind her tea._

 _"She is made to be loved," agreed the Hooded Figure, drawing strange looks. "What? Did I not say it right?"_

* * *

 _Good,_ came the thought. _Things are fine as it is. You don't need anything to change. And if you_ don't _do what she wants, then she loses. You win, and you stay in control._ That's _what you need._

Arec gritted his teeth.

 _No,_ he thought, and the backlash within his own mind was almost overwhelming.

 _NO?_ his thoughts demanded. _You're no fool, Arec. She's toying with you, manipulating you, and you're playing right into her hands. Don't take the bait! If you give in to her now, she'll have you at her beck and call, doing whatever she wants, whenever she wants. You_ must _remain in charge!_

* * *

 _"Also in love with Arec," the Fan Girl added primly._

 _"I'm not," grunted the Little Ghoul. "But I sure love to hate him."_

 _"What the..." The_ _ **Boxer**_ _, a well-armed man with a goatee and a striking headband, had just showed up. "What in the world did I miss?"_

 _The girls launched into a lengthy explanation, talking all at once and all over each other. The Boxer quickly glanced around for cover, then dove out of sight as soon as the girls were distracted, leaving them mystified by his disappearance._

* * *

 _I won't control her,_ he thought again, and this time he felt like a spike of writhing pain had anchored itself to the bottom of his chest and was pulling him apart.

 _Arec,_ came the thoughts again, and they sounded more like his father's voice than ever before. _You're a genius. You're a master at everything you've tried. You can't let a pretty face sway you. There are_ millions _of other girls in the world. You can try them all. You'll find one that suits you perfectly and asks nothing in return._

 _She said it wasn't for her sake,_ he growled inwardly. _She doesn't want anything. She_ loves _me. There has to be another reason._

 _LIES,_ shouted his thoughts, but he fought them down long enough to wrench his eyes open and meet Kallistar's gaze.

She was staring at him with unrivaled intensity. He'd never seen her look so alive without outright igniting, and she was looking at him in a way she hadn't since their escape from Gesselheim. She seemed a woman possessed, and it gave him a moment of clarity.

"Then why?" he asked simply, suddenly noticing that his jaw ached from being so tightly clenched. He'd dug his fingernails into his palms, as well, he discovered, and his face was damp with tears.

"You owe it to yourself," his girlfriend replied. "Not to the man you're afraid you'll become, but to the man you are. Gesselheim made me question a lot of things, Arec. Before you came to the rescue, I had made up my mind to cut you loose.

"We were just kids when we met, but when I was in that place... I just started to think that I should be looking for the man I want to live and die with. The man I can trust by my side, no matter what, and who inspires me like nothing else on the planet. I didn't really think I'd find him, of course," she laughed, and her eyes sparkled in the light. "I just figured I'd start by looking for a grown-up, and you were the wrong place to start for that.

"Then you showed up, and I saw an Arec Zane I'd never met before."

She leaned forward, loose strands of her hair singeing the tablecloth on contact.

"You're so afraid of yourself," she whispered. "But I've seen you. You're a man like none other, but you cover yourself up because you think if you ever get a look at yourself, you'll turn out to be someone else. The reason I'm dating you, Arec, is because I'm waiting for you to come back. I hate the wait. More than anything, I hate waiting for the man I love. But it's teaching me patience, and it'll be worth it. I know that. I thought you should, too."

Arec closed his eyes.

 _She's lying, you know,_ he thought to himself.

* * *

 _The Little Girl whistled softly. "Daaaaaaamn," she murmured appreciatively. "But I still hate that stupid voice."_

 _"It's like a shoulder demon," the Hooded Figure chimed in. "Always nagging you about something or bickering with the other two. I think it's called the 'id,' short for 'idiot.'"_

 _"How do I throw a tomato at an inner monologue?" the ghost wondered._

 _The Hooded Figure shrugged, his robes rippling strangely as he did._

* * *

 _You're no better than your father,_ Arec's thoughts continued. _If she means what she's saying, then she's an idiot. She thinks you're so much more than you are. You've done a great job fooling her all along, though. You should feel good about that. Maybe you can string her on even longer. Pretend you're going to change your ways. Keep her hooked for her imaginary dream boy. She might even wait for you forever._

 _I have never once manipulated her,_ he thought in turn. _I have never changed her thoughts or her feelings, guided her perception or controlled her decisions._

 _Yes,_ the voice praised. _You've done a marvelous job keeping her around, and you still have total deniability. Plus, she'll never suspect it if you_ do _have to take control eventually..._

 _And I think I finally know why,_ Arec thought.

For once, the voice in the back of his head was silent, taken aback.

 _She doesn't care about my name,_ he continued. _She doesn't care about my abilities. She doesn't value my status, my connections, or anything else. She values me for who I am._

 _Yes, which means she'll stick around no matter_ what _you do,_ his thoughts pointed out delightedly.

Arec shook his head.

* * *

 _"Um, I still need to throw this tomato somewhere," the ghostly girl pointed out._

 _"Try the waiter," the storyteller suggested dryly. "I hear he's harmless."_

 _"Yeah, but where's he? I know where the storyteller is, but where are the characters?"_

 _No answer was forthcoming._

 _"Perhaps," the **Masked Immortal** mused, "we could activate a scrying device and modify its functionality to serve as a portal—"_

 _"Mmh," the Little Ghoul interrupted, munching on the tomato. "Mno mmg."_

* * *

 _The point is that right now, she's the only person in the world that I can trust to see me the way I truly am,_ Arec said, ignoring the voice. The pain in his chest was beginning to fade. _That needs to change, because she's not going to be around all the time, and, honestly, she has every right to get rid of me if she decides to._

 _So what if she tries?_ his thoughts began, but he cut them off.

 _I don't see what she sees. I feel like she has to be wrong about me. But I_ know _that she knows me better than I know myself. So I'm going to take her word on this one. And you, whatever you are or whatever part of me you represent? You can go to hell._

"Did you need anything else, sir?" asked the waiter.

Arec opened his eyes and blinked rapidly to clear them. "S... Sorry," he replied, mildly dazed. "No, uh... I think I'm good."

The waiter nodded and left. There were quite a few other occupied tables now; Arec started to wonder how much time had passed and whether anyone he knew had seen him in such distress, then remembered that he had something more important to worry about.

"Sorry I wasn't all there just now," he said, exhaling as the tension gradually left his body. He met Kallistar's eyes. "I looked into my head."

The question in her eyes burned so brightly it almost sent sparks across the table, but she waited for him to speak.

"I still don't like doing that," he admitted. "And you're right. I'm afraid of becoming... you know. But I don't see what you see. I don't think the Arec you're waiting for is in here." He reached up and knocked on the side of his head illustratively. "And I'm not really sure that's going to change."

Kallistar leaned back, and the fire in her eyes began to fade into disappointment.

"But," Arec finished, "I know you wouldn't lie. If you saw him, I know he exists. I can't find him in here, so I'll just have to go looking for him. It might even do me some good to be away from Argent for a while."

* * *

 _The Masked Immortal jumped to his feet and began patting himself down, looking for something._

 _"What's up?" asked the Little Ghoul, yawning. "Whew. Heketch should've known a good bedtime story was all he needed."_

 _"My emergency celebration kit," the shadowy man explained. "He said he's going away!"_

 _He located and opened a small cigar case. Tangible darkness flowed out of the case to join the Immortal's menacing aura._

 _"Delicious," he sighed contentedly, resuming his seat._

* * *

Her eyes widened, and a grin began to spread across her face. It brought a new kind of life across her features, and just looking at her made Arec feel invigorated.

"I need to know what this guy looks like to track him down properly," Arec declared, "and I know just where to start. I won't ask you to wait for me—you've waited long enough as it is. If you want to call things off for now, I..."

She was already shaking her head.

"Idiot," she stated as Arec trailed off. "You think I'd miss out on this? You're finally learning something that matters!"

* * *

 _"Ooh, burn!" called the Little Ghoul._

 _"Yes, I understand Kallistar has some experience with burns," the masked man replied, deadpan._

* * *

Arec scowled comically. "What? Come on, I know lots of things that matter! Most of them are toy-related, but that counts!"

They shared a polite chuckle in acknowledgement of the attempt to lighten the mood.

"So," he said hesitantly, watching Kallistar for her response, "you think it'll help?"

She laughed aloud, a fiery twinkle in her eye. "It's like I said, Arec," she replied, casually but carefully placing her hands on the table.

Suddenly, she sprang out of her chair and pushed herself across the table with both hands, nimbly seating herself on Arec's side of the table; then, she seized him by the collar and pulled him close, never breaking eye contact.

"You're at your best when you look me in the eye."

She kissed him passionately, and while their lips met, the air around them was alive with sparks.

After only a few moments, though, Arec pushed her away, wincing in pain and wiping sweat from his face. His lips were slightly burned.

"Th-thanks, but... _ow,_ " Arec gasped quietly.

The two shared a laugh, Arec still wincing as his lips moved, until his stomach grumbled loudly enough to interrupt. Kallistar had knocked his untouched House Special to the floor in the middle of her maneuver, but the waiter had already cleaned up the debris.

 _No loss there,_ Arec thought.

"Something else, perhaps, sir?" asked the waiter. "Something specific this time, perhaps?"

"Yeah, sorry about the mess," he said, slightly embarrassed.

"Not at all, sir. You should see the kitchen."

Arec placed his order. Shortly after he received his meal, the waiter's remark finally registered, and he performed a belated double-take.

* * *

 _"And that's all for tonight!" proclaimed the Blind Wolf. "Did I knock everybody out?"_

 _"No," said the Immortal, tracing the outline of his mask. "I seem to be unscathed. And I am relieved to hear that Arec will be leaving Argent in relative peace for, oh, at least three days."_

 _"It's not the last you'll hear of him here," the storyteller warned, "but Argent will be able to breathe a sigh of... hm... Okay, Argent will at least be able to focus on different threats instead for a while."_

 _The Hooded Figure chuckled. "So, is Lymn next?"_

 _"That conclude tonight's event," the storyteller answered. To the group as a whole, she continued, "Thank you all for being a wonderful audience, and thanks as well to those who are no longer here, but were earlier!"_

 _"See, that was a good story!" declared the Little Ghoul, yawning again. "Even ghosts need to sleep after a really good story."_

 _"A really bad babysitter wouldn't know how to tell one," the wolf explained, rising to leave with everyone else. "Good night, everyone!"_

 _The Hooded Figure waved, but did not move. "I'll just keep waiting here, then!" he called out after the departing storyteller._


	7. Round 4

_"There," the **Blind Wolf** instructed._

 _The **Ribbon Girl** —a short, pale-haired knight in opalescent armor—set down a stack of books and board games, and the storyteller hopped atop it._

 _"Perfect," she decided. "Just the right height for the table. Is anyone interested in a story tonight?"_

 _"I am!" piped up the pink-haired **Fan Girl**._

 _"Running a game over here," growled the **Boxer** from the next table. He ran one finger down a chart in a large book, then rolled a set of dice. "Okay, your reward for the mission is... the blueprints."_

 _The **Little Ghoul** , seated across the table from him, sprang out of her seat and cackled madly, dancing on the tabletop. "HAHAHA! YES! I HAVE IT! Only one piece remains! The ultimate Archframe WILL be mine!"_

 _The Boxer rolled the dice again. "Annnd your Psyframe took some damage during re-entry because you destabilized the hull. Your pressure monitor's broken, so you can't fight outside the ship any longer."_

 _The look of triumph on the ghost's face instantly transformed into utter despair. "No! NOOO! I wanna fight the bad guys!" She stomped her incorporeal feet on the table, upsetting none of the pieces on the game board. "It's not fair! Not fair, not fair!"_

 _The **Hooded Figure** leaned over to look at her character sheet. "Hey, even if it's damaged, that's a cool Psyframe. Want to trade?"_

 _"No!" she shouted petulantly, sitting down on top of her character sheet and scowling at him. "It's mine!"_

 _The Ribbon Girl exchanged glances with the blindfolded storyteller._

 _"Date night, right?" the armored knight asked._

 _"Right," the wolf confirmed._

 _"I've got one for you, then. Why is fandom matchmaking called 'shipping?'"_

 _The Blind Wolf shrugged. "I don't know. Why?"_

 _"Because ships are easily sunk by canons," the knight finished, grinning._

 _The wolf groaned._

 _"Okay," growled the Boxer through his goatee. "Game's on hold so we can throw stuff at her."_

 _The Hooded Figure offered a slow clap. "My appendage-eye coordination is terrible," he explained in response to the Boxer's glare._

 _The Ribbon Girl slipped away before they could find anything to throw, and the storyteller took the opportunity to begin._

* * *

 **Round 4, Room 3**

* * *

 **Karin Brandtford** straightened out her dress, looking herself over with apprehension.

"Okay," she reminded herself aloud, "here we go. Those other guys were all right, but now I get my normal, human dates. This will go well. It _will_ go well. Please let the next person to walk through that door be incredibly cute."

The door swung open.

"Oh! Hello, there!" piped up her visitor. "I wondered if I'd run into you at some point. How's your night going so far?"

Karin blinked. "...Mar? Uh, fine, but—what are _you_ doing here?"

 **Marmelee Greyheart** smiled cheerfully, adjusting her spectacles as she took the seat across from Karin.

* * *

 _The Fan Girl quietly shoved together a Karin plushie and a Marmelee plushie._

* * *

"Well, Jager told me about this event, and it sounded like such an interesting tradition! You know how bad I am at meeting new people. You and Jager never seemed all that outgoing, either, so I figured if you could do it, I ought to be willing to give it a try, too."

As Karin struggled to find a response, Marmelee leaned forward, holding the feral's gaze with her strange, false eyes.

"So! Where shall we go from here?"

* * *

 **Round 4, Room 6**

* * *

A muscular man with a tattered scrap for a shirt grimaced. He had his legs crossed and his arms folded, and the man across the table from him held the exact same position.

"At least they matched me with a human this time," **Gaspar** remarked. "Two dogs and a squid weren't exactly what I was expecting."

* * *

 _The **Hooded Figure** flipped back through his playbill. "Oh, so he did have two dogs and a squid."_

 _The storyteller nodded. "More or less."_

* * *

The red-haired man on the other side of the table shrugged. "Did they?" mused **Sagas**. "What were you expecting, then?"

Gaspar shrugged in turn. "I don't know. Humans, mostly. Or at least human-shaped things. I'm not here for the same reasons as anyone else. I'm here to teach."

"So am I," Sagas replied.

Gaspar frowned. "Oh, really? I bring the truth of the Cosmos That Is Not, the Unmade World! What are _you_ teaching?"

The redhead smiled faintly. "No less," he answered. "Like you, I'm teaching nothing."

* * *

 _The **Mad Scientist** burst into laughter, though it was hard to tell if it was because of the story._

 _The **Masked Immortal** leaned over to the Little Ghoul and murmured, "Could I borrow some of those ethereal tomatoes?"_

 _She darted away on tiptoes.  
_

* * *

"It's not nothing!" Gaspar objected. "It is the Naught!"

"Then it's nothing, is it not?"

"No, the Naught is not!"

"Is it Naught that is not, or is not Naught that is not?"

Gaspar started to answer, then paused, counting on his fingers.

"Missed one," Sagas pointed out helpfully.

"Thanks," Gaspar replied absently. "I think... the second one, then."

"Then you are Naught teaching," Sagas declared, trying to hide his grin.

* * *

 _"This is tying_ me _in knots," complained the Fan Girl, her head swimming._

 _The Little Ghoul returned, handed the Immortal a tomato, and resumed her seat._

* * *

"I _am_ teaching!" Gaspar shouted. "I come to spread word of Naught!"

"Heard it," Sagas abruptly stated.

"What?" replied the shirtless man, taken aback. "Already?"

"Oh, yes," answered the red-haired doppelganger. "I've heard everything about nothing, and Naught I couldn't explain."

* * *

 _The ghost child giggled, then groaned. "The puns!" she moaned. "Dear goodness, the puns!"_

 _"Fray not thy sanity in yon deluge," the Hooded Figure sagely advised._

 _A tomato bounced off of his hood._

 _"Riper next time," suggested the Masked Immortal._

* * *

Gaspar blinked. "Impossible. The emptiness cannot have reached this far already."

"You underestimate yourself!" his date assured him. "The emptiness of your intellect swells to encompass its surroundings, and the vast nothing that is your knowledge overtakes all who encounter it. Truly, you shall prophet Naught for your efforts."

The shirtless warrior nodded slowly, squinting past his shades to get a look at the redhead's eyes behind the man's own mirrored shades. Sagas returned the stare; the two doppelgangers sat in silence for some time, struggling to win a staring contest that couldn't quite get off the ground.

* * *

 _"Sagas: interdimensional troll," declared the Boxer._

 _The storyteller nodded in agreement. "They're going to be doing that for the rest of the round. Let's move on to someone else. I suppose we should head back to..."_

* * *

 **Round 4, Room 3**

* * *

"Hey, uh, it's been nice chatting and all, but can I ask how exactly Jager described this event we're at?" Karin asked cautiously. A suspicion had been forming in the back of her mind.

Marmelee blinked. "He said it was an event for meeting new people and making friends, since the custom of spending solstice evening with friends has started to spread outside of Relecour."

Karin covered her face with her hands. "Right, yeah, that makes sense. What did you say you were looking for when you registered?"

"Well, I said I was looking to meet some women that I could spend time getting to know better," explained the disguised dragon. "I love spending time with Joal, Jager, and everyone else but the only woman I've spent any time with is Shekhtur, and I, um... I don't really thing we have much in common. So I'd like to make some new friends."

Karin nodded slowly, then frowned. _Wait... did she just imply that I'm not a woman?_ "And, uh, how's it going so far?"

Her friend smiled again. "Really well! I met a magical knight and got her autograph, Ms. Acktern told me about her adventures in the Relecan wilds, and I spent some time talking to a woman who I think was even more nervous than I was, which I think did a lot of good for both of us!"

The werewolf felt a slight pang of jealousy. _Missing the point completely, but having a great time anyway. Mar, you are lucky beyond belief._

"Why do you ask?" Marmelee asked curiously. "You're acting like there's something else I should've known."

* * *

 _The Little Ghoul turned to the Fan Girl, raising an eyebrow. "Lucky, huh?"_

* * *

Karin's eyes widened beneath her hands. _I am not going to explain dating to Marms._ "Well, uh, most of the people here had something different in mind. That Relecan tradition is more about spending time with _one_ person than with a bunch of friends. You get it, right?"

Marmelee shook her head, eyes wide and attentive.

Karin started blushing. "Well, it's sort of a thing where you pick one person you want to spend some extra time with, and, uh... And you spend time with them," she finished lamely.

"Oh, like Jager did with that perfume salesman?"

"No," Karin corrected, "that involves following someone's scent, and it's called 'stalking.' I'm talking about, like, dinner, and stuff. Not cooking," she added hastily. "Going out to dinner. At fancy restaurants."

 _Okay, maybe I should work on my own definition of dating,_ she admitted to herself.

The disguised dragon nodded slowly. "So it's about making a special effort to spend extra time with one specific person. Got it."

* * *

 _"I am inordinately amused by a wolf attempting to explain this strange human activity to a dragon," remarked the Hooded Figure._

* * *

" _Romantic_ time," Karin finished, refusing to allow her blush to deepen.

"Romantic?" Marmelee started. "Wait, you mean..." Her eyes widened. "Does that mean they thought... and when I..."

Karin winced and nodded.

Marmelee's face swiftly turned pinker than her hair. "Oh," she murmured.

 _This is the most awkward thing I could possibly be going through,_ the werewolf thought. _At least I know Jager's not having a better time than I am._

* * *

 _"'Oh' indeed," the Hooded Figure sighed. "Karin, why must you shatter the illusion Marms so nicely painted for herself?_

 _"Karin doesn't see the point of pleasant lies or illusions," the storyteller explained. "She's not forthright to a fault, like Jager tends to be, but she doesn't really 'get' self-delusion in general."_

 _"Also," the figure added, "the rule of dramatic irony states that you must stop here and show us that—"_

 _"With that," the Blind Wolf continued, ignoring him, "we'll move to Room 4."_

 _The Hooded Figure cleared his throat._

 _"Yes, you called it," the storyteller acknowledged. "And I know you've been waiting for this one."_

* * *

 **Round 4, Room 4**

* * *

In Room 4, a wolf with a top hat sat across the table from a wolf with a blindfold.

The dapper wolf flicked his ears and dipped his head to knock his hat loose, catching it in his mouth and making a motion that looked sort of like a bow.

The blind wolf nodded, then turned her head. Her ears went up slightly in his direction, and her tail moved slightly.

The dapper wolf's ears began to twitch rapidly. He expertly flipped his hat up and back onto his head to cover the motion, then licked his nose. He swished his tail slowly.

Lymn's tail stopped moving.

Jager closed his eyes and sniffed, placing one paw on the table. He let out a small bark of approval.

Lymn straightened, sitting taller in her chair. Her ears lowered.

The dapper wolf immediately withdrew his paw and closed his mouth.

 _Stupid,_ he scolded himself. _Much too forward._

* * *

 _"I just realized that I have no clue how canine body language works," said the Hooded Figure._

 _"I'm lost," confessed the Little Ghoul._

 _The Masked Immortal raised a hand. "Can we get someone to translate?"_

 _All eyes turned to the **Frayed Gent** , a silver-haired gentleman in a top hat and a tattered suit._

 _"What?" he asked, looking around. "Why does everyone assume I speak dog?"_

 _"Pretty please?" the Fan Girl begged with wide and pleading eyes._

 _The Frayed Gent sighed. "It's not that interesting. He tried to talk about the weather, which didn't exactly impress her, then he complimented her scent, which she seems to have taken the wrong way. Despite it being a perfectly polite compliment, I'll have you know!"_

 _"Sure it was," the Blind Wolf replied dubiously._

* * *

He bowed his posture, tucking his tail between his legs.

The blindfolded wolf growled quietly, showing her front teeth.

* * *

 _"Ooh," remarked the fellow in the top hat. "Bad move."_

* * *

Jager shook his head, then dropped his head to the table and put both paws over his eyes.

She sighed and scratched against the table with one paw.

He uncovered one eye and let his tail out.

* * *

 _"Okay, he's basically trying to say that he stuck his paw—er, foot in his mouth because he wasn't prepared to meet someone as beautiful as her."_

 _The Little Ghoul snorted. "Seriously?"_

* * *

She licked her nose and started to wag her tail.

 _Score!_ he thought, sitting upright again.

* * *

 _"He gets another shot!" the Frayed Gent crowed._

 _"I think we'd better move on from there," said the storyteller._

 _"Oh, come on!" complained the ghost child. "You gotta tell us more of your adventures! Why are you always telling other people's stories? Tell your own!"_

 _"Don't be silly, girl," the Blind Wolf chided. "I had nothing to do with this. I'm just the storyteller."_

 _"Sure you are," the silver-haired gentleman replied dubiously._

 _The storyteller smiled knowingly and continued the story:_

* * *

 **Round 4, Room 3**

* * *

"It's not that bad!" Karin said for the fourth time. "It sounds like everyone's understood that you're just here to make friends. It'll only be really awkward if you walk in, and the other person is really interested in you."

"Y-yeah," Marmelee replied, starting to blush again.

 _Shoot!_ Karin thought. "I mean," she corrected, "you shouldn't worry about that happening, because nobody's going to be interested in you!"

* * *

 _"Wow, harsh," coughed the Hooded Figure._

 _The Little Ghoul jumped up onto her seat and yelled, "Dammit, Karin!"_

* * *

Marmelee gave no reply, but simply looked downcast.

 _Stop talking, Karin!_ "N-not that you're not likeable!" Karin hurriedly amended. "You're incredibly likeable! I like you a lot, and I'm sure Jager likes you! I just don't think you'll ever meet anyone else who—shoot, I mean, nobody could find you appealing—"

 _STOP TALKING, KARIN!_ she shouted at herself as Marmelee looked more and more nervous, but her mouth just kept moving. Mercifully, she was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Whoever you are, you're just in time!" she called out. "Please come in!"

She looked at Marmelee, whose eyes were misty.

"Don't listen to me, Mar," Karin sighed, "you know I can't think straight without four paws on the ground."

"I know, Karin," Marmelee said quietly, rising to leave. She managed a smile. "Please don't worry about me. I'll see you afterwards, okay?"

She swept out the door, passing by the mustachioed gentleman who was on his way in. He spared a moment to look at her in confusion, then turned his attention to Karin, who was still mentally kicking herself.

"Ah, excuse me," **Luc** said. "I seem to have been a little early."

Karin shook her head. "If anything, I wish you'd been earlier. Please, have a seat. You're the first man I've seen all night."

Luc hesitated. "The first? Er... this _is_ the fifth round, right?"

She nodded, flashing an attractive, but rueful, smile. "Yes, I just mean I wouldn't count the others as 'men.' Come on, sit down and introduce yourself. We don't have long."

* * *

 _"It's dangerous to ask a question like that, Luc," the Hooded Figure warned. "Space-time doesn't hold up well under scrutiny."_

 _"Okay, that's Round 4!" the Blind Wolf announced. "So let's take a break and refresh ourselves. I should probably stretch a bit, myself."_

 _"Do some tongue stretching exercises," the Hooded Figure suggested._

 _The Fan Girl had fallen asleep amidst her body pillows, as usual. The gamers began to pack up their game, which had just finished._

 _"The third interlude will be at the Van Sorrel residence," the Blind Wolf added, "and it will be a fairly short one. See you all soon!"_

 _"I'll be here—though, if my formula is incorrect," said the Mad Scientist, "'here' might be too strong a word. So might 'be,' come to think of it."_

 _The storyteller nodded and departed, leaving the group to their motley pursuits._


	8. Interlude 3: Van Sorrel Residence

_"Okay, I'm back," the **Blind Wolf** announced. "Do I still have an audience?"_

 _The **Hooded Figure** looked at his wrist, which remained completely concealed by his long-sleeved robe. "Sure, if you can start right away."_

 _"We're setting up for a game," explained the **Cover Girl** , an attractive woman in a red jumpsuit, as she shuffled a deck of double-sided cards._

 _"Then right away shall be," the storyteller replied, and launched into the story._

* * *

 **Rixia Van Sorrel** ran her finger down a printed page of proofs and explanations. She mentally ticked off valid points, crossed out invalid arguments, and corrected flawed (but useful) examples.

"Nice work, Barts," she murmured approvingly. "Nonsense, of course, but exceedingly well-researched."

* * *

 _"Reminds me of a junior professor marking graduate level work," the Hooded Figure observed._

* * *

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a knock on the door. She looked up, startled, and saw a mechanical girl standing a few feet away, waiting patiently for her to look up.

Rixia looked around. She was sitting in the lounge, a large, open room with wide doorways leading to other parts of the house. There were no doors.

"Did you make that sound, **ARIA**?" asked the blonde scientist.

The mechanical girl cut a shapely, armor-clad figure that seemed out of place in the warm light of the lounge. Her face was cut to the finest of specifications, and artificial fabrics covered her chassis where no interface modules were attached, but she still seemed unreal. The circuitry in her visor glowed a cold blue, and her expression was completely blank.

"Yes, Rixia," ARIA replied. "It is polite to knock before entering. I did not wish to intrude on your thoughts."

Rixia smiled faintly. The girl was very realistic, but she'd never been intended for social niceties. "It's all right. Do you need something?"

ARIA nodded. "I need the graphical record of Planar Collapse Event #43c: 'Involution of Meteris.'"

"Oh, that one hasn't been migrated," Rixia replied offhand. "It's in Mom's extraplanar storage, under the 'archived footage' directory."

The robotic girl nodded and walked away, her tail-like antennae swishing behind her.

Rixia returned to her light reading, setting Barts aside and looking for a more relevant discourse. She stopped and raised an eyebrow when one caught her eye. "Chivers is in here? I don't remember her submitting anything."

She started to withdraw the document, then halted abruptly as ARIA's query sank in.

She jumped to her feet and sprinted down the hall and around the corner, to the playroom.

"ARIA!" the scientist called as she ran. " _Why_ do you need the graphical record of a planar collapse?"

* * *

 _"You know, 'need' is a strong word," the Hooded Figure pointed out. "I imagine a robot with military background would have military deference integrated into her circuitry. Shouldn't she'd say something like, 'I would like to request,' instead?"_

 _"In a military context, perhaps," the storyteller answered. "But she's been working on developing a 'casual tone' to use in non-military settings. Evenings like this one are a perfect opportunity for her to practice."_

 _The **Planebound** , an aged elemental with one gleaming, crystalline eye, arrived through a rift. "What did I miss?"_

 _The Blind Wolf gave him a quick recap of events. "In summary: not much. We're at the Van Sorrel residence."_

* * *

Rixia reached the entrance to the playroom, then halted abruptly to avoid tripping over an assortment of wooden blocks that lay just within the entrance. She started to step over the blocks, then saw that there were smaller blocks beyond them.

A small, yellow robot stepped into view, carefully avoiding the intricately-laid configuration of blocks to set one tiny piece on top of another.

Rixia blinked.

The miniature **Cadenza** model robot then carefully made its way out of the model city it had built out of wooden blocks, picked up another block from the playroom's collection, and returned to add another piece to what appeared to be the mayor's residence.

Rixia's mouth fell open.

"I need to use it to create a virtual representation of a soldier being defeated," ARIA explained from her side of the playroom, which was covered floor-to-ceiling in books, computers, and board games.

Rixia didn't respond at first, so ARIA tilted her head queryingly.

"Rixia, is your mouth stuck open? I hate it when that happens."

The blonde scientist shook her head to clear it, then adjusted her glasses and cleared her throat. "No, ARIA, sorry. I just wasn't expecting the Cadenza model to be so... industrious. Is he under your control?"

* * *

 _"I swear that the correct form of that word is 'inquiringly,'" the Hooded Figure muttered._

 _"That's the correct form of 'in an inquiring way,'" the storyteller corrected. "Which is the same denotatively, but not quite connotatively."_

 _"One involves more lookup tables," agreed the Cover Girl as she began to deal out cards._

* * *

The robot shook her head. "No. This Cadenza is on autopilot. He is terrible at playing games, but it is difficult for me to play games against him when he is under my control. I was not designed to exclude known information from my calculations."

"I see... Hold on!" Rixia held up a finger. "I've gotten distracted. I was asking you about the graphical record. You said you need it to show a soldier being defeated? Please explain."

ARIA took a moment to decide on the correct expression of emotion, then sighed. "The Cadenza is terrible at playing games," she repeated. "I have been invited to play a game with a different party, so I am creating a virtual game of warfare for us to play.

"Soldiers normally provide very little visual feedback when they die, so I am including a strong signal to indicate when one is killed." She paused, then added, "Planar Collapse Event #43c was strongly visually apparent. I thought it would be useful to use those graphics."

Rixia's eyes widened. "You're designing a virtual game, and you thought a planar collapse—wait. What 'different party' invited you? And how did they do so? You haven't left the premises, have you? Did someone come here?"

ARIA shook her head. "No. I was attempting to extend the range of my scouting modules by integrating with Kaitlyn's intraplanar computer network, and I encountered a foreign network of similar design. It became aware of my sensors and sent a message to me over the scouting module's reserved channel."

"You what?" Rixia shook her head. "While I appreciate your desire to continue to expand your capabilities, did Mom say you could use her network for military equipment testing?"

ARIA shifted. "No," she admitted. "But she did not say I could not. And she had already granted me access to the network. She has said before that I am on trial at all times to demonstrate the capabilities of my model. She always encourages me to do anything I can to expand those capabilities."

Cadenza picked up another handful of blocks, clanked back to his model city, and quietly put them in place, finishing the mayoral manor.

"That's because she's on trial as much as you are," replied the scientist with a sigh. "She doesn't want you looking for trouble like this. You said the foreign network sent you a message. What was it?"

One of the monitors against the wall flashed, turned black, and printed a simple message in white letters:

You have given me your attention. I will give you mine in return.

I challenge you to a duel of strategy. You may determine the details.

Prove yourself my equal.

\- **Sophica**

* * *

 _"How about a nice game of chess?" suggested the Hooded Figure, perusing a handful of cards._

 _"Or BattleCON," growled the **Boxer** , setting his cards down and adjusting his headband. "I'd love to see how ARIA fares in BattleCON."_

* * *

Rixia studied the message, furrowing her brow in thought. "Sophica? Now why does that name sound... Ah! Sentavra!"

"Sophica Sentavra is the Dean of Technomancy at Argent University," ARIA confirmed. "And, like me, Sophica is an artificial intelligence built from a golem core. If my design is complete, I will win. Otherwise, we must consider further improvements in my design."

The blonde scientist adjusted her glasses and looked at the robotic girl. ARIA's face and voice betrayed no emotion. "You'd consider yourself a flawed design for that? It isn't what you were made to do."

"It is," ARIA said firmly. "I am designing a virtual game that will present the perfect test of strategy for a planestalker. It will test the execution of every function I am capable of supporting, and it will do so in a competitive context. If I lose to Sophica at a game of my own design, then I do not satisfy my own requirements."

"Mom would be crushed," Rixia remarked, testing the girl's responses.

* * *

 _"How about Relic Hunters?" offered the Planebound._

 _"Enough," snapped the Cover Girl. "We're not playing Relic Hunters, or chess, or BattleCON—"_

 _"I was just commenting—" the Hooded Figure tried to explain._

 _"—we're playing Voxel Tactics," the silver-haired woman finished, cutting him off sharply. "Now, everyone choose your leaders and starting orientation."_

* * *

"No." The robot shook her head. "If I prove myself flawed, they will know how to improve on the next model. Kaitlyn does not care about me enough to be disappointed if I fail."

Rixia winced. "That's not true, ARIA! She cares about you plenty. She asked me to look after you while she's out."

* * *

 _"Erm, what exactly are you doing over there?" the storyteller asked suddenly, interrupting herself. "That doesn't_ sound _like a card game."_

 _"Well, there are two orthogonal time dimensions," the Hooded Figure explained, gesturing in four dimensions. "You get two instances of your deck, each of them in a separate chronological frame of reference. One game is played forward within its timeframe, while the other is played backwards inside a separate timeframe."_

 _The Blind Wolf was speechless._

 _"You start by choosing your Leader and which dimension you want them to start in," the Cover Girl added, picking up the explanation. "They give one set of bonuses to the squad they command and a different set of bonuses to any members of the squad that would exist chronologically 'later' than themselves if the timeframes were overlaid. There are usually six win conditions, but the easiest one is to try to align your timeframes and overlap your squads when you have a full complement."_

 _"Which will be difficult for me," noted the Planebound, "since I'm choosing Merlin as my Leader. Once per Prime Round, I can name a unit in my squad and draw that unit from my other deck, provided I won't have already played it with respect to that timeline."_

 _"Never mind," the storyteller managed to choke out. "Never mind!"_

* * *

ARIA tilted her head quizzically, then nodded as if she'd just realized something. "I am not distressed," she explained. "I accept that she only cares about one thing. You are here because I am objectively valuable, not because I am valuable to her."

Rixia shivered at the girl's cold response. "You sound just like her sometimes," she remarked. "What's the one thing you think she cares about?"

* * *

 _"Coffee," guessed the elemental with the crystalline eye._

 _"That's... a pretty reasonable guess, actually," the Cover Girl remarked. She nodded at the Hooded Figure. "Hey. It's your turn."_

 _The Hooded Figure shook his head. "No, I took my turn during a bit of time that ran alongside yours."_

 _"You mean, at the same time?"_

 _"No, it wasn't the_ same _time," the robed figure insisted. "It was to the left."_

* * *

ARIA offered a distant, detached smile. "I am more similar to Kaitlyn," she agreed, "but you are the only one she cares about. I will never be her daughter. Instead, I will be the best planestalker I can be. I will win against Sophica."

Rixia was taken aback, but she nodded. "All right. But instead of Planar Collapse Event #43c, how about Intraplanar Distortion Event #11a?"

File names and directory structures flashed across ARIA's visor; then, she motioned with an antenna, and one of the monitors behind her came to life. It displayed a diagonal red gash, like a bleeding wound hanging in midair; moments later, the gash darkened to black and widened until it was nearly circular. Empty air replaced the distortion, starting in the center and spreading outward until the entire distortion had disappeared.

* * *

 _The **Little Ghoul** set down her cards to scribble something on a piece of paper with the heading "SFX 2 Practice."_

* * *

"I like it," decided ARIA. "It is not as eye-catching as the collapse event, but it is much faster."

Rixia gave another faint smile. "I thought so. All right. I'll leave you to your work. Good luck."

ARIA tilted her head. "Likewise: I hope that the actual outcome of your activity is more desirable than the likeliest outcome."

* * *

 _"That has got to be the most robotic well-wishing I've heard all year," sighed the Hooded Figure with a hint of jealousy._

* * *

"Right," Rixia replied with a nod. "And be careful talking to strange artificial intelligences. We don't know much about Sophica."

She spared one more look at the model city the Cadenza robot was finishing up, shaking her head in amazement, then turned to leave.

"Wait," ARIA called.

The scientist paused.

"Normally, you would already have contacted Kaitlyn about my activities," ARIA observed. "Since you are concerned about my use of her network, it is strange that you did not do so immediately."

Rixia sighed. Well, she's certainly observant! she thought. Turning back toward the room, she met ARIA's eyes. "Yes, it is. Do you have a question for me?"

The robot nodded. "Yes. Why are you refraining from contacting Kaitlyn?"

"Because she has the night off," the scientist answered. "I don't want to bother her with work. Plus, she asked to take off the solstice evening, specifically, so I really don't want to think too hard about where she might be or what she might be doing."

ARIA tilted her head again. "Why not?"

"Because I don't want to think about my mother going on a date," Rixia admitted.

"Oh?" said the robot, puzzled. "Oh. No. I do not understand. But you should not worry about Kaitlyn becoming a romance. She puts too much distance between herself and others for that."

* * *

 _The Planebound started to chuckle, then tried to disguise it as a "harumph."_

 _"ARIA clearly does not have a vocabulary designed for discussing relationships," he observed. "Also, I love the parallelism here."_

 _"Nope, she certainly doesn't," the wolf agreed._

* * *

 _Becoming a romance?_ thought the scientist. _That turn of phrase needs some work._ "Thanks," she replied aloud, her tone sarcastic in spite of herself. "I hadn't noticed."

"She does," ARIA assured her. "And when she has it, she maintains it. Except for you."

Rixia gave a small, warm smile, then, and started to turn yet again to return to her reading in the other room. Just before she did, a metallic clanking sound from the other side of the room caught her attention.

Both ARIA and Rixia looked at the small-scale Cadenza robot, which had raised its arms in triumph. Every block was placed, and a thriving wooden metropolis sprawled across the playroom.

"Wow," Rixia said, impressed.

Cadenza made a strange sound with its gears: a screech of triumph, like a battlecry. It raised a leg to step over the city wall—then brought it crashing down, splintering some of the wooden blocks and scattering others.

* * *

 _"Has anyone here seen that show, Assault on Colossus, or whatever-it-is?" the Little Ghoul piped up. "I have the theme music going through my head, for some reason."_

* * *

It screeched again and marched through the city, bringing its fists down with one thundering, miniature blow after another. It crushed tiny wooden people, flattened the model vehicles it had so carefully crafted, and wrecked every last building until the city was nothing but a broken ruin.

"Uh," said Rixia.

"Disturbing," ARIA agreed.

The small-scale Cadenza finished its march of destruction near the door, and it looked up at Rixia and screeched once more. It moved closer, reaching out with one arm to crush the city wall nearest the door.

She reached out and placed her hand on the top of its head, halting its advance. It dug its feet into the ground and tried to overpower her, and she winced with the effort of holding it in place.

"Do you need assistance?" asked the robot girl on the other side of the room.

With her other hand, Rixia pulled her calculator out of a side pocket. "No, I'm fine," she replied.

* * *

 _"This is the greatest suspension of disbelief I have ever asked of you, my audience," the Blind Wolf announced. "Please believe that Rixia somehow acquired women's clothing with pockets she can actually fit things in."_

 _The Hooded Figure shrugged. "Who knows what's fashionable these days. That's why I stick to vintage."_

 _"Doesn't she wear big, puffy coats?" the elemental pointed out. "Even women's versions of those have pockets."_

 _"I specifically avoided saying this," the storyteller replied, "but Rixia is actually not wearing her coat. It may be winter, but she's indoors, after all."_

 _"You sly dog," the Planebound said, eyebrows raised. "Sneaking in fanservice without us even noticing?"_

 _The Blind Wolf took a moment to catch on. "She's not naked!"_

 _"Hey, come on!" shouted the Little Ghoul, drawing everyone's attention. "She's a planar mage! Of_ course _she has 'pockets.'"_

* * *

Cadenza's thrusters activated, but Rixia was faster. She'd already typed in the formulae she needed. As Cadenza launched forward, she effortlessly picked him up off the ground. She quickly spun him around to face the other way and set him back down, causing the robot to charge in the opposite direction and crash into the playroom's far wall.

Rixia cleared her calculations, resetting the Cadenza unit's physical properties, and returned to her light reading.

* * *

 _"And that's Interlude #3!" the storyteller announced._

 _"Bravo!" declared the Planebound. "Though ARIA is quite different from what I expected. I think of her as being older, for one thing. Much less girlish."_

 _"Different from mine, too," piped up the Little Ghoul. "She seemed too... human. The spirit matches, but the language seemed too natural."_

 _"Ah, the fun of headcanons!" remarked the pink-haired **Fan Girl** , rousing from her slumber._

 _"I don't think she has those, actually," said the elemental._

 _"I want one of those!" the Little Ghoul cried suddenly. "Why haven't I heard of them before?"_

 _"ARIA is learning how to behave in a more 'human' way," the Blind Wolf explained. "The main problem with an ARIA that behaves like a robot is that most planestalkers will not trust her as they would a more personable commander. As for her being girlish, well... Her social development hasn't had a lot of time put into it."_

 _"Eh." The Little Ghoul shrugged. "I guess that's reasonable. But back to this head-cannon business..."_

 _"Good night, everyone," the storyteller called, and the group began to disperse._

 _"H-hey! I was serious! Where do I get a head-cannon? Come back!"_


	9. Round 5

_"Can someone give me a hand over here?" called the_ _ **Fan Girl**_ _, buried beneath a massive mattress._

 _"Sure!" replied the_ _ **Tentacle Tamer**_ _, an incomprehensible being from beyond time and space. Ethereal tentacles emerged from rifts in the world to lift the mattress from her and carry it safely to her collection of body pillows and stuffed figures. "Why's it got a face?"_

 _"It's a César body mattress," the pink-haired girl explained. "Like a body pillow, but to scale."_

 _"Is it adjustable?" asked the_ _ **Blind Wolf**_ _, amused. "To, say, five ascending Comfort Levels?"_

 _"Nah," the Fan Girl replied, oblivious. "It's just right for me: not too soft, but not too hard."_

 _"Hey!" the Tamer interjected. "Do you have a Kehrillow?"_

 _"Sure!" The willowy, pink-haired woman handed the tentacles a somewhat strange-looking red cushion. "It's memory foam, so it changes shape as needed."_

 _"What about Endrbed?" the Tamer asked._

 _"I think he's a Sleep Number," growled the_ _ **Boxer**_ _through his goatee. "You can't get him at any old Indines Home Furnishings store."_

 _"Hey, I know that place," the Blind Wolf realized. "Is there a Voco rug around here? I think I picked it up there."_

 _The audience looked underfoot._

 _"Found it," said the_ _ **Hooded Figure**_ _. "Looks like everyone's been walking all over him."_

 _The wolf shrugged. "Well, that's what he's there for."_

 _"How about a King Alexserta bed?" the Tentacle Tamer piped up again._

 _"That'd be as big as my entire room," the Fan Girl protested._

 _"I also have Lymnen sheets," added the storyteller. "And I think they have Jager Ottomans. Ottomen?"_

 _"No, no, no," the unknowable entity protested. "Trade those out for Silktur sheets right away."_

 _The Fan Girl shook her head and groaned. "From body pillows to pun-based furniture. Wonderful."_

 _The Tamer's tentacles waggled in the air. "Well, you know—I love my Larimore Furnace."_

 _The Blind Wolf groaned. "That's it, I'm starting!"_

 _The Fan Girl whacked a bundle of tentacles with a body pillow, and the storyteller began._

* * *

 **Round 5, Room 6**

* * *

 **Marmelee Greyheart** knocked on the door to Room 6, which opened a moment later. A muscular fellow with a tattered scrap for a shirt elbowed past her, grumbling about something.

* * *

 _"'C'mon, it was just a joke,'" the Tentacle Tamer called, imitating the voice of the magical knight, Iri. "'Come back!' And then a purple-and-yellow tentacle monster slithers after him."_

 _The storyteller shook her head. "Wrong room entirely, I'm afraid. Besides, no ordinary voice can accurately reproduce the speech of a cosmic entity beyond mortal comprehension."_

 _"Uh, duh," pointed out the cosmic entity beyond mortal comprehension._

 _"Oh. Right. In that case, it was just a bad impression."_

* * *

The willowy woman cleared her throat and entered the room, looking nervously at the figure across the table from her. "Um... hello," she said softly, blushing.

 **Sagas** nodded, then gave her a small, shy smile. "Hi there."

She tiptoed forward, her arms folded uncomfortably. "I, um, just learned that I may have misunderstood something rather important about this event."

The red-haired man pushed up his shades and tilted his head. "What's that?"

"This event is intended to assist in locating... romantic prospects," Marmelee explained, her blush deepening.

"Yes, that's correct," the doppelganger replied evenly.

The willowy woman looked away and took a step back. For several seconds, she couldn't think of anything to say.

"Take a seat," Sagas offered.

To her surprise, she did.

* * *

 _"We'll come back to them in a bit," the wolf assured her audience._

* * *

 **Round 5, Room 1**

* * *

Like the other men she'd met tonight, **Alumis** ' newest date made a point of getting her chair.

"Thank you," she said, demure. _I don't care for the conversation, but I have to admit, I could get used to the deference._

"Of course," **Baenvier** replied, seating himself across from her. "I am a commander of the Lesionaires. Courtesy, among many other qualities, separates an officer from the enlisted rabble."

She blinked. Something was a little different about this one. "A commander?" she repeated, trying to sound impressed. "I must be quite lucky. All of my dates tonight have been unexpectedly enjoyable."

The green-haired soldier nodded. "I'll be better than any of them," he stated confidently.

Alumis raised an eyebrow. "Um... Well, you're as handsome as they are, I'll give you that." _Let's see... Hobbies was the next topic of conversation, usually._ "What sorts of things do—"

"You look very nice, too," he interrupted with a forced smile. "Considering."

"Considering what?" she asked, nonplussed.

"Your makeup," he explained. "It's all wrong."

Alumis stared. Since her appearance was a carefully-crafted illusion formed of her own shadow magic, it had never crossed her mind to use actual, physical makeup.

"Oh! You're not wearing any? That explains it, then," he said airily. "I suppose there's something to be said for being unconcerned with one's looks."

She turned the words over in her head, trying to make sense of them. He certainly wasn't paying her the same kinds of compliments as the last three gentlemen she'd seen. "I'm sorry? I don't think I understand your meaning."

Baenvier flashed an unpleasant smile. "So much for 'brains before beauty,' eh? That's all right, don't worry your little head over it. I'm sure you clean up fairly well, at least."

Alumis' eyes narrowed. _That,_ she decided, _did not feel like a compliment._

* * *

 _"Let's step out of Room 1 before things get ugly," said the storyteller._

 _The Hooded Figure nodded. "At least Alumis seems to understand that Baenvier is rotten."_

 _"I feel bad that he's such a jerk," remarked the white-haired_ _ **Mad Scientist**_ _. "I'm considering ways to improve him."_

 _"I feel sort of bad about him, too," the Blind Wolf confessed._

 _"He's still a jerk, though," the Fan Girl stated firmly._

* * *

 **Round 5, Room 3**

* * *

"...and that's when he ate the camel," **Karin Brandtford** was saying in a bored tone.

"I see," said **Luc Von Gott** , nodding. "And then what happened?"

"He sprouted wings and flew over the top of the crystal tower, where there was a beautiful banquet all set for his coronation as King of Backyards."

"Ahh. And then?"

"The coronation was perfect. And it was underwater, despite the fact that I just said it was in midair above the crystal tower. Does that make any sense at all?"

"Yes, I see," Luc agreed, still absently nodding. "What happened next?"

Karin heaved a sigh and let her head drop to the table with a thud.

"Wha—oh! Er, are you all right?" Luc asked, startled from his stupor.

"Fine," she grumbled. _Oh-for-five,_ she thought. "Come on, Luc, you should've had this!"

"Had... what?" he asked, perplexed.

She lifted her head and fixed him with an icy glare. "This date! You were smooth, charming, interesting, and attractive! All you had to do was sit here and talk to me, and we'd both have had a great time, but it's obvious your thoughts are somewhere else entirely."

* * *

 _The Fan Girl nodded rapidly in agreement, blushing noticeably._

* * *

Luc looked away, shamefaced. "I'm... sorry, Karin. You're right. I just... I've had an interesting night. I shouldn't be so distracted."

Karin nodded expectantly.

Luc leaned forward and tried to meet her eyes, but his gaze darted off in a different direction every few seconds.

* * *

 _"I can't decide if Gaspar or Karin is having a worse night," the Hooded Figure thought aloud. "Neither has gotten what they came here for."_

* * *

She sighed. "Let's just make this as painless as possible," she decided. "You're thinking about one of the other girls you met, aren't you?"

Luc sighed in turn and nodded.

"If you liked her that much," she pointed out, "we weren't going to spend much time together anyway, were we?"

Luc grimaced, but nodded again.

"Fine, then." Karin leaned back and waved him away. "Go on and wait for the bell; you don't want to be late. And thanks anyway. You were my best date all night."

"But we still have—" he began, but Karin shushed him.

"Wait in the hall, then," she said, trying to conceal her irritation. "I want to be alone right now. And don't beat yourself up for my sake." She forced a smile. "You're too old for me anyway."

* * *

 _The Fan Girl scowled and muttered loudly, "Too old? 'Too old' my shiny pink—"_

 _The rest of the audience had fallen silent._

 _"Hair," she finished meekly._

* * *

Luc nodded hurriedly and left the room.

Karin sighed heavily and dropped her head to the table again.

 _At least we were both human,_ she reminded herself. _I'm still having a better time than Jager, right?_

* * *

 **Round 5, Room 2**

* * *

"Arf!"

 **Jager** looked at his date, surprised.

* * *

 _The Fan Girl raised her hand, prompting the storyteller to pause. "How can I translate this from dog into a language we can understand?"_

 _"Oh, right!" the storyteller remarked, as if she'd just realized the problem. "Erm... Let's see..."_

 _The_ _ **Frayed Gent**_ _, a silver-haired man in a top had and a tattered suit, sighed and rose from his seat. "Her dialect's hard for me to get through. I'll translate for him if you translate for her?"_

 _The Blind Wolf nodded and continued:_

* * *

"Arf!" repeated **Iri** , perfectly mimicking the sound of a canine. "Arf, arf."

"Ruf," the dapper wolf replied, nodding.

* * *

 _"A doggie!" translated the Blind Wolf. "I'm fluent in dog. I took it as a correspondence course. You can understand me, right?"_

 _"Sure, of course," the Frayed Gent answered._

* * *

"Arf, arf arf, yip?" the magical knight asked.

"Woof," Jager confirmed. He flipped his top hat off of his head and pushed it across the table to her with his nose.

She picked it up and balanced it on top of her ponytails. "Arf!" she proclaimed happily.

* * *

 _"Oh, it's so nice to finally use this! Nobody ever speaks dog any more. That hat is lovely, by the way! Does it detach?"_

 _"Uh, I don't think many people ever spoke dog. But yeah, it does," the Frayed Gent confirmed. "Here, try it on."_

 _The storyteller paused to mime the action of placing a top hat on her head. "Oh, I like it!"_

* * *

"Woof, ruf!"

Iri blushed, flattered, and returned the hat. "Ruf, ruff!"

* * *

 _"It suits you admirably," the Frayed Gent translated. "Can I just mention here that you smell positively glorious? Like candy corn in a snowstorm!"_

 _"Thank you!" The Blind Wolf mimed returning the hat. "You smell like laughter and fine wine to me, but I'm not sure I have this 'smell' thing down quite right."_

 _"And that about does it," finished the Frayed Gent, resuming his seat._

 _"I think we can leave them at that," the Blind Wolf decided. "Things are clearly going quite well."_

 _"Amazing!" applauded the Fan Girl._

 _"...I want to take a correspondence course in speaking Dog," growled the Boxer._

 _"The written notation has got to be awful," the Hooded Figure remarked. "Jager still manages to have reasonable dates despite the lack of thumbs, though. I'm impressed."_

 _"Why a correspondence course?" said the_ _ **Cover Girl**_ _, a white-haired woman in an odd red jumpsuit. "Grab a dog and start immersive training today."_

 _The storyteller chuckled. "Now let's go back and tie something off..."_

* * *

 **Round 5, Room 6**

* * *

Sagas Seities looked completely relaxed. "Why are you here?" he asked.

The willowy, pink-haired woman across the table from him blushed. "I just wanted to make new friends, I didn't..."

Sagas held up a hand to stop her. "That's why I'm here, too," he explained.

"It... it is?" She brightened considerably.

"I'm here for the same reasons you're here," Sagas confirmed. "If you just want to talk for a few minutes, that's exactly what I'm here for. So let's talk."

She sighed with relief. "I'm glad to hear that! Where are you from?"

"Amalao," the redhead replied. "To the west."

Marmelee blinked. "Amalao is to the east."

Sagas hesitated. "Right. Sorry. That still gives me trouble, sometimes. When you're looking at a map, south is down and east is left, right?"

"Right," she corrected.

* * *

 _"Soon, Sagas will learn about ninety degree rotations," the Cover Girl predicted, "and everyone will be lost forever."_

* * *

Sagas traced an invisible map in the air. "So if we're here, then Amalao is to the left..."

"Right," she corrected again.

"Which means it's to the east," Sagas finished. "Got it."

* * *

 _"I always figured Sagas and Gaspar to have excellent memories," said the white-haired woman in the jumpsuit. "Something about trying to understand and imitate other beings."_

 _"They have an excellent memory for the way they learned things the first time, yes," the Blind Wolf confirmed. "Which is why it's hard to adjust now that things have been flipped around."_

* * *

He bent one of his legs to check the bottom of his left boot, where a backwards R was inscribed.

"Yes," he said confidently. "I've got it now."

* * *

 _"Sagas and I seem to share that trait," the Boxer observed. "We're awful at our lefts and rights."_

 _The audience eyed him nervously._

 _"Are you a doppelganger?" the Blind Wolf finally asked._

 _"How would I know?" he growled with a shrug. "Just don't trust me with left and right, ever. Port and starboard, go right ahead, I have those down pat. Left and right are awful."_

 _"Well," the storyteller continued, "they have a nice, confusing, misleading conversation ahead of them, so let's just leave them there and go check on a different doppelganger instead."_

 _"Clone A?" asked the Cover Girl._

 _"Hard to say," said the wolf, "but he certainly looks like him."_

 _"Sounds like Clone B was up to no good again," the beauty replied, knowingly tapping the side of her nose._

* * *

 **Round 5, Room 5**

* * *

"We had a deal," **Welsie Acktern** crossly reminded her date. "I let you deliver your little spiel. Now hold up your end of the bargain and buzz off."

* * *

 _"Well, that was about what I expected," the Hooded Figure commented. "Actually, I take that back. That was more than I expected of Welsie."_

* * *

"But you must understand the glory of Naught!" **Gaspar Geddon** declared passionately. "Allow it to embrace you and be reborn in nothingness!"

* * *

 _"And then everyone died," said the Cover Girl._

* * *

"Ugh," she groaned. "I should've listened to myself."

Gaspar continued rambling about the "truth in emptiness" of the "pure and beautiful" Void.

"Look, you can keep talking to me," she finally said, "but I've got another date to meet, so I'm going now."

Without another word, she got up and walked out the door.

Gaspar rose and followed, still preaching along the way.

There was a faint clicking sound, and a mustachioed gentleman appeared in the room. As soon as he appeared, he took a step back in alarm.

"Another shall hear the words of truth!" Gaspar cried, rising from his chair.

"How did—" Welsie started, then shook her head. "We just went through this!"

* * *

 _"And thus began Gaspar and Wardlaw's Excellent Adventure," the Cover Girl quipped._

 _"You know," mused the Hooded Figure, "I think I ordered the same Cultist's Guide he did. Most of those lines sound really familiar."_

 _The Fan Girl lounged on her body mattress. "I'm just glad there aren't as many Naught puns as last time," she remarked._

* * *

"Endless are its disciples," the doppelganger replied with a dark smile. "Endless is its might."

Welsie snapped her fingers in his face, shutting him up for a few moments.

"Once more," she sighed. "Crazy guy, follow me. Luc, wait here."

She walked out of the room. Gaspar hesitated, then followed.

"Sorry about that," said Welsie from her seat behind the table.

Luc jumped and whirled, then looked back and forth between her and the door. "Didn't you just..."

"Don't ask questions," she replied airily.

"Right, of course." Luc shook his head. "Thanks for telling me to go back for Karin, by the way, even if I was too distracted thinking about you. I didn't give her the attention she deserved."

Welsie smiled, but she seemed a little confused. "Well, that _was_ a mistake on your part, but I don't mind being told I'm distracting. You're reluctant to give out compliments, but you won't hide the way you feel. It's something I always liked about you."

"Always liked?" he asked, puzzled. "But we only met a few minutes ago, didn't we?"

She winced. "I really hate questions like that. Not your fault, they're just a pain to answer clearly."

* * *

 _"I think she means, 'English grammar doesn't have the tenses to deal with timey wimey things,'" growled the Boxer._

 _"Well, like the Guide says, the most difficult part of time travel is grammar," the Hooded Figure agreed._

 _"So, uh..." The Fan Girl shrugged. "I actually kinda ship it?"_

* * *

"Sorry," Luc offered.

"We were great together. In fact, I liked you better than anybody I'd ever met," she admitted. "At least, I did when I met you."

"Then... we _have_ met before tonight?"

She winced again. "Eh... Yes, but not from your perspective. And now is not the time. I'll fill you in during our third date. This is our second, so we should just focus on getting to know each other a bit better. I've always found your job interesting—tell me about history, Luc. There's nothing like hearing a story from someone who lives inside it."

She deflected any further questions he attempted to ask, but they had a pleasant, interesting conversation, and the date was quite agreeable for both of them.

At the end of it, she checked her watch, then gave him a look that quickened his pulse.

"I'm looking forward to our first meeting," she remarked. "Our third date proper, that is. See that you don't skip a second date tonight, hmm?"

Luc looked away and adjusted a device on his shoulder, mumbling something about accidentally sleeping through an earlier date. Welsie laughed a light, tinkling laugh and rose to shake his hand; a moment after she released her grip, he disappeared with a faint clicking sound.

"The only oddity now," she mused aloud, "is that he thinks I told him to go back for Karin..."

* * *

 _"Why doesn't she use a language that just doesn't worry about time?" the Hooded Figure wondered. "I find reality-agnostic languages much more useful than ones that actually work."_

 _"You know," remarked the Fan Girl, "the way Welsie acts around Luc makes her seem like a clock tease."_

 _"To finish out the round," said the Blind Wolf, "we'll return to Room 1."_

* * *

 **Round 5, Room 1**

* * *

"I can tell that you're an officer," Alumis growled. "Your smell is rank."

Missing the jab, Baenvier continued to brag about his exploits. "Of course, none of them were prepared for what would happen when they tried to battle me on so-called 'even footing.' The poor fools assumed I would rely on my equipment for my strength, despite my attempts to explain that such reliance is exactly what I wish to eliminate. I cannot abide dependence of any sort."

"Why, exactly, are you here?" the rasp snapped. "You don't care about women, that's obvious. You're as stuck-up and self-absorbed as they come, and you only practice courtesy so you can look down on those who don't. So what's the draw, Benny?"

"Baenvier," he corrected haughtily. "I am here to obtain a pretty little trophy I can hang on my arm at an upcoming party. I have my pick of local women, but as I've no interest in petty romance, that doesn't do me much good, does it? I wish to return with a woman to demonstrate my worth and shame my competition."

"A party?" Alumis repeated in disbelief. "You're trying to outshine your 'competition' at some party? I don't care _who_ you're trying to impress, you have no right to come here and ruin _my night_ because of it! Who do you compete with, anyway? With your freakish clown hair and all the personality of packing material? Are you having a pissing contest with a sea sponge, maybe? A beauty competition against a large carrot?"

* * *

 _The Hooded Figure flinched. "I think carrots and sea sponges all over Indines are pretty insulted right now."_

 _"Still a jerk," the Fan Girl repeated with emphasis._

* * *

Baenvier rose to his feet, enraged. "Now wait just a minute!"

"Green hair!" she shouted at him. "Green armor! Green cape, green glowing equipment! What are you, a soldier with a broccoli fetish? Aren't there rules about uniforms in the Lesionaires, or—"

She grinned eerily widely and, in a disturbingly sweet voice, finished:

"Or perhaps there's something to be said for being unconcerned with one's looks?"

"Of course there's a uniform, but screw the rules!" Baenvier roared, reaching for his weapon before he remembered that he hadn't been allowed to bring it with him. "I have green hair! It's natural, and it's gorgeous, dammit! What do _you_ have?"

The bell rang for the end of the round.

"Prospects," quipped Alumis, waving him out the door.

* * *

 _The Fan Girl whistled approvingly. "Can I be like_ her _when I grow up?"_

 _"That's the end of Round 5!" announced the storyteller as the group disbanded. "See you all again soon!"_


	10. Interlude 4: A Kalmor Evening

_"Am I wearing the wrong blindfold?" the **Blind Wolf** wondered aloud as she resumed her usual spot. "I think I'm wearing the wrong blindfold. I know where I put the one I wore yesterday, but—"_

 _"Is it on backwards?" piped up the **Little Ghoul**._

 _"Huh?"_

 _"That's the most important question," the blonde ghost patiently explained. "Is it on backwards?"_

 _"Well, no," replied the Blind Wolf, baffled. How could a blindfold be on backwards? "I don't think so, anyway..."_

 _"If you can't tell if it's on backwards, how can you tell if it's the right one?" the Little Ghoul sighed._

 _The storyteller shook her head and addressed the audience at large: "Anyway, tonight's interlude may be less exciting than the others—one might say it will be_ Kalmor _than usual."_

 _The audience groaned._

 _"It features Joal Kalmor, the monster hunter renowned for his mastery of countless varieties of weaponry, and his wife, Vanaah Kalmor, the mighty captain of the Reapers of Sanghalim and—secretly—the mortal avatar of Djare, the goddess of death. Although they live in Sanghalim, they've decided to give this Relecan 'date night' tradition a shot."_

 _"I'm a little excited," admitted the pink-haired **Fan Girl** to her neighbor. She wrapped herself in a furry blanket to get cozy. "I heard that Joal and Vanaah going out was one of the main reasons we're getting any of these date night stories."_

 _The Blind Wolf nodded. "I thought it would be amusing to describe their outing. Someone wanted to know about how others were spending the evening, and things escalated from there. Now, then..."_

* * *

About an hour before dusk on the eve of the solstice, inside a fine restaurant in a small town in Sanghalim, a legendary monster hunter sat across the table from the captain of the desert paladins.

"I feel naked without my weapons," **Joal** admitted, nibbling nervously at one of the crisp wafers that he refused to believe deserved to be called breadsticks.

"I know what you mean," agreed **Vanaah** , rearranging her silverware. She wasn't sure what else to do with her hands when neither was holding a scythe.

The waitress, a bright-eyed girl, took their orders without comment or small talk. It was the solstice, after all; most couples wanted to be left to themselves.

Several minutes passed. Joal set down the first breadstick, which he'd nibbled into the shape of a throwing star, and started on a second.

Vanaah cleared her throat. "You look good," she declared, unsure what else to say.

* * *

 _"But back to my blindfold," the Blind Wolf interrupted herself, "does anyone remember if—"_

 _"I bet Vanaah eats all the breadsticks," the Fan Girl whispered._

 _"Oh my gosh," gasped the **Mad Scientist** , a white-haired man in a blue long coat. "Are they going to make a tiny appetizer armory at this way-too-fancy restaurant? That's exactly what I do on my dates! And at other times!"_

 _"Waiter! WAITER!" barked the **Tentacle Tamer** , an unknowable entity from beyond time and space, attempting to mimic the voice of a character within the story. "There's a fly in my soup! What's it doing in there?!"_

 _"Setting its attack pair," quipped the **Nondescript Waiter** , whom no-one had noticed arrive. "You can tell because it's face-down."_

 _"You ordered food here?" the storyteller asked in disbelief. "How? Where did you even tell them to bring it? We're outside the edges of reality!"_

 _"Get me a soup_ without _a fly in it!" demanded the Tamer, ignoring the wolf. An ethereal tentacle launched a bowl of soup at the Waiter, who calmly stood in place as soup drenched his formal attire._

 _"Right away, sir," the server replied, leaving so quickly he seemed to vanish._

* * *

"Oh, uh, thanks. You, too," Joal replied, scratching the side of his head.

Another minute passed.

"That's a nice dress," Joal offered. "Where did you get it?"

"Oh, uh... My closet, I suppose," she answered with a forced laugh. "I don't remember where it came from. I don't think I've ever worn it before."

* * *

 _"I wonder what kinda dresses they have in Sanghalim," mused the Fan Girl._

* * *

The dress was a plain, undecorated, garment with a long skirt, but no sleeves. It was barely different from her usual outfit.

"It looks nice," Joal repeated lamely.

 _I'd kill for a distraction,_ he thought.

* * *

 _"I'm not nice enough to give him one, though," the storyteller remarked. "Anyway, I was trying to ask if anyone—"_

 _The Waiter returned in a fresh suit, with soup-stained clothing folded neatly atop a platter. It handed the platter to a bundle of tentacles that were hovering in midair._

 _"Here you are, sir," the Waiter announced. "No flies."_

 _The Tamer drew the platter into a rift in space, and quiet munching was heard from every direction at once._

 _"This soup is too cold!" the Tentacle Tamer snapped._

 _"Maybe I should just go change," the Blind Wolf sighed. "It's really getting to me."_

 _"Try setting it on fire, sir," the Waiter suggested. "If you are in need of fire, I would be glad to assist by setting you on fire, sir."_

 _"Now I want to order food, too," grumbled the Mad Scientist. "Those tentacles' behavior is worth immolating."_

 _"You mean 'emulating?'" asked the Fan Girl, nudging her white-haired neighbor._

 _The madman stared at her blankly. "What does 'emulating' mean?"_

 _"I want to see your manager!" shouted the Tamer at the top of its audible spectrum._

 _"So do I, sir," the Waiter replied smoothly. "Unfortunately, none of us have ever seen The Manager."_

 _The tentacles launched another bowl of soup, this one garnished with gnawed pieces of stained fabric, through a rift in the fabric of reality._

* * *

 _A bowl of soup splashed across Vanaah's back, drenching her dress and causing her to jump up from her seat._

 _"He did it," said a sourceless voice. An ethereal tentacle pointed at a hapless fellow who was just about to leave with an order he'd placed in advance._

 _Joal's gaze focused on the man, who was a stocky, nervous-looking man in a red apron. The man looked like he was on his way back to his own place of business—he even had a nametag: **Boris Rumaldi**._

 _Joal's eyes narrowed, and he reached for a breadstick._

* * *

 _"Hey, hold on," cut in the Blind Wolf. "What's going on here?"_

 _"What?" asked the Mad Scientist, looking up from his doodling. "Weren't you telling a story?"_

 _"Sure, but then I left to change my blindfold. Joal and Vanaah were just sitting in awkward silence when I left off."_

 _"Wait," said the Fan Girl, confused. "Who threw the bowl of soup?"_

 _"Bowl of soup? What bowl of—wait a second. Tamer!"_

 _"I just wanted to see what Joal would do to some random, angry restaurant-goer!" the eldritch entity protested._

 _"Quit messing with the fourth wall," the storyteller admonished. "It's barely intact as it is. Boris isn't at the restaurant, he's at a bar down the street. How did you do that, anyway?"_

 _"Oh, I'm working on my impressions," the Tamer explained. "I've got you down pretty good, watch:_

* * *

 _"See?"_

 _"That is pretty good," the Blind Wolf admitted. "But something still sounds off."_

 _"Yeah, it's a work in progress," the entity admitted._

* * *

After a few more minutes, Vanaah piped up again.

"Did you trim your beard? It looks good."

"Oh, uh... No, actually," he admitted. "Same beard."

"Oh. Well, um. It looks good," she repeated.

 _How are we so bad at this?_ thought Vanaah. _We have a great relationship! We talk about things! Come on, I need words! Goddess, give me words!_

"Weather," she blurted.

Joal blinked.

"We have... weather," she elaborated, cringing inwardly.

"Yes," Joal replied calmly, sensing the awkwardness mount. "Yes, we do."

They fell silent again.

* * *

 _"Ugh," groaned the Little Ghoul. "I can write better dialogue than this, and how many relationships have I had? None! I'm a ghost! And, like, seven!"_

 _"You've had seven relationships as a ghost?" the Blind Wolf asked with the hint of a smile._

 _"No! I mean I'm like seven!" the blonde girl corrected, annoyed._

 _"But Seven isn't a ghost," the storyteller wryly observed._

 _"No! Read my grammar, not my words!" the ghost shouted in frustration._

 _She lobbed an ethereal tomato at the wolf. It passed harmlessly through her, but splashed against the shirtless Waiter, who had been standing unnoticed behind her. He did not register surprise. The Fan Girl's eyes went straight to his torso now that his presence had been made apparent._

 _"Never mind," sighed the ghost. "Just go back to the story!"_

 _"Good idea!" exclaimed the Tamer, seizing the blonde ghost in a pair of tentacles and hurling her through a rift._

* * *

 _"Hey!" she yelped._

* * *

 _"Wow," gasped the Little Ghoul, regaining her footing. "You threw me all the way through the_ second _wall. I'm not even sure how you did that."_

 _"Had to," the Tamer explained. "It was that or break the fourth one, and the janitor would have a fit."_

 _"I'm just surprised it loops back around to this side," the storyteller remarked. "Never been back there before."_

 _"The girl never metafiction she couldn't make it through," murmured the Mad Scientist as he bent over a fresh series of scribbles._

* * *

Their food arrived, and they ate in silence.

Joal set down his third breadstick, this one a kunai, and picked up a fourth.

Suddenly, a distant bellow rattled every plate and glass in the place. The crash of collapsing masonry outside shook the ground.

Joal and Vanaah were already on their feet as the door burst open and a hapless villager began shouting: "There's a monster! A gigantic monster is destroying the town!"

"Hallelujah," chorused the couple.

They eyed each other momentarily, trying to hide their respective grins.

"Isn't that blasphemous?" Joal pointed out.

"Not for me," she retorted. "But you could get into serious trouble."

He smiled openly, then. "All right. I'll just have to make sure nobody finds out."

* * *

 _"Oh!" exclaimed the Fan Girl, tearing her eyes away from the Waiter's bare chest. "Action!"_

 _"I'm going to go watch something easier to mess up," the Tamer grumbled._

 _"This monster is getting a warmer reception than I tend to," mused the **Masked Immortal** from within his ever-present shroud of darkness._

 _"Well, most of the town is panicking or fleeing in terror," the Blind Wolf replied. "Which... admittedly, might still be a warmer reception than you usually receive, yes."_

 _"Point granted, then?"_

 _"Yeah, I guess so."_

* * *

"I'll get the check," the paladin said, trying to locate their waiter in the panicking restaurant. "Go take a look—and come right back! Don't you dare hog the whole fight to yourself!"

Joal nodded and dashed out the door, pausing only to re-equip his mask.

"Much better," he sighed once the mask was in place.

Vanaah managed to flag down their waitress and drag her to their table to take care of the check. Just as she finished paying, Joal returned.

"It's a taurus," he explained. "Most stereotypical-looking one I've ever seen."

"Shirtless, nose ring, loincloth, battleaxe?" she guessed.

"All of the above," confirmed her husband.

"Wow, that is stereotypical. I've never heard of one appearing above ground before, though."

"The light makes his skin look purple," Joal remarked. "It's really weird-looking. Oh, and he's eight or nine times larger than any taurus I've seen before. Maybe they're like goldfish."

"Well, it gives him an obvious, easy-to-reach weak point," the paladin observed with a wicked grin.

He nodded, though something was nagging at the back of his mind. "Yeah, shouldn't be a problem."

He turned to leave, but halted as Vanaah cleared her throat.

"Ah, honey?" she said, gesturing at her skirt. "I can't fight in this dress."

He stepped closer, examined the dress, and nodded. "You'll just have to take it off," he concluded. "Don't worry; I don't mind."

She laughed and gave him a playful shove, which nearly knocked him off his feet. "Just give me your knife," she said. "And go get our weapons. I'll meet you out front when I'm done."

He shrugged and took out his knife, prompting a gasp from the waitress.

"Sir!" she objected. "No weapons allowed!"

"What?" Joal waved the knife around casually, prompting the waitress to take a cautious step back. "This? This isn't a weapon. It's a knife."

"Knives are weapons, sir," she dutifully insisted.

* * *

 _"Guns are weapons," agreed the voice of an unknowable entity from beyond space and time. "Knives are tools."_

 _"Bet you it's the binding knife, though," muttered the Mad Scientist. "The one that can stagger any foe, even if it draws only a single drop of blood."_

 _"That's the one," confirmed the storyteller. "It's a useful letter-opener, too."_

 _"How convenient!" observed the Fan Girl._

 _"Joke's on you if you try it on me," said the Tamer. "I don't HAVE blood!"_

* * *

The hunter shook his head. "If you think this is a weapon, you've never seen a real weapon. Anyway, a giant monster is attacking, and she's a paladin. Are you really going to tell her she can't have a knife?"

The waitress looked at Vanaah. The paladin's icy blue eyes seemed to pierce right through her; she swallowed and shook her head.

Joal passed the knife to his wife, then took off to retrieve their armaments.

A few minutes later, Vanaah exited the building to find Joal already armed and waiting with her scythe.

He looked at her heightened hemline and whistled appreciatively, then passed her the scythe.

She took it, but stopped him before he could run off. "Wait a second."

* * *

 _"Apparently, Joal likes the battle-ready ones," mused the Little Ghoul. "An actual date, eh. But a back-to-back fight with a woman who can fight well? Oh hell yes."_

 _The storyteller nodded in agreement and added, "At least the feeling seems mutual!"_

* * *

"What?" Joal asked, turning and forcing himself to keep his eyes on her face.

"Goldfish?" she asked, looking at him quizzically.

Near the edge of town, an eighty-foot-tall humanoid creature with a bull's head and purple skin was plowing into one building after another, smashing them to pieces.

"Yeah, you know, goldfish. They expand to fill their living space," Joal explained. "You put one in a fishbowl and it never grows more than a couple inches, but put it in a lake and it'll grow a foot a month."

"You're pulling my leg," snorted his wife. "Do they sprout wings if you toss them up in the air?"

"What? No, I—"

She was already running toward the taurus, which had just destroyed a bar down the street.

"That's not even—" Joal ran to catch up. "Everyone knows about goldfish!" he panted, racing alongside her.

She stopped short, nearly causing him to tumble forwards as he forced himself to stop next to her.

"Expanding goldfish," she uttered, eyebrows raised, "that swell up like balloons if they're not kept in tanks? Sure, honey, of course! I can see how that would be common knowledge. It's not ridiculously unbelievable at all."

She raced off toward the beast again. Joal shook his head and tried to keep up.

By the time he made it to her, she had halted the beast's advance and taught it a healthy respect for her scythe.

"Hang back a tic," he called, "they're normally more intelligent than this. It might listen to reason."

She stepped back and let Joal take the lead. He ran forward, but he had to hurl himself backward as the creature's battleaxe, comically tiny in its massive hands, swung his way. As its massive fist passed him by, Joal thought he heard a sizzling sound, which fed the idea nagging at the back of his mind.

He squinted up at the monster, trying to meet its eyes.

"Hey!" he yelled up at the towering taurus. "Hey, I want to talk! Got a minute?"

In response, the creature bellowed and swung for him again. Joal saw the titanic fist coming in, shrugged, and reached for his ironstar: a massive metal device in the shape of a six-pointed star, with one point longer than the rest.

* * *

 _"Ah," the Mad Scientist sighed, "the crystallized moments of mistakes being made."_

* * *

He pulled the ironstar over his head and slammed the long point into the ground, bracing behind it as the beast's fist collided at full speed. Amazingly, the ironstar held fast, causing the creature to howl and clutch its bruised fist in pain.

Joal leaped on top of his ironstar, then jumped from it to the beast's arm. By the time it had shaken off the injury, Joal had reached its shoulder.

"Hey!" he shouted in its ear, noting that the creature had a bleeding gash on either side of its nose. "If you understand me, surrender now!"

The skin was definitely purple, not blue, he realized, and there was no mistaking the same sizzling sound as before. It was almost deafening now that he was standing on the beast.

The taurus tried to swat him away with its uninjured hand, but just before it could do so, Joal dropped behind its shoulder and began climbing down the beast's back, carving out handholds in places where no convenient lump of hair was available to ease his descent.

The beast howled, but it couldn't quite reach around to dislodge him. Joal halted his descent at its loincloth—which, he noticed, was both uncomfortably tight and of a very unusual pattern—and dove for the ground, rolling as he landed.

"Ironstar again!" Vanaah shouted across the battlefield, hefting her scythe for emphasis. "I'll finish it!"

Joal signaled his understanding and ran for the ironstar. As soon as he entered the beast's sights, it lunged for him, dropping to its knees and reaching out with both hands.

He made it behind the ironstar just in time. It tried to close its hands around the ironstar to crush him regardless, but a few blasts from his pistol were enough to dissuade it from that course of action.

 _Weird,_ Joal thought. _I could've sworn its hands were smaller just a minute ago._

As the monster withdrew its arms, Joal whirled around to the other side of the ironstar and glanced around. Where was—ah. She was in position.

* * *

 _"She's got the beast in 'er sights!" an audience member cried excitedly._

* * *

Vanaah stood directly beneath the kneeling taurus' loincloth, her massive scythe poised for a vicious upward strike.

Joal looked at the monster's skin, which seemed to be growing redder every second. He looked at the gashes on its nose, at the battleaxe that was far too small for it, and, finally, at its uncomfortably-tight loincloth. Finally, the nagging pieces at the back of his mind all came together and clicked into place.

"Vanaah!" he shouted. "Fall back!"

She didn't react—either she couldn't hear him over the bellowing beast and its sizzling skin, or she had already begun to enter her deadly trance.

 _No, no, no,_ thought Joal, looking around frantically. _We don't need to kill it. I've got to distract her somehow!_

Vanaah, meanwhile, had crouched to meditate. She entered a state of perfect calm, granting control of her body to the will of death itself.

She sprang up with a burst of preternatural strength and speed, launching herself upward toward the beast and swinging her scythe—

"Ow!" she exclaimed, broken from her trance by a sharp pain in her chest. Her blade swung wide and missed its mark; it left a light gash in the beast's thigh, but no further injury.

The taurus roared in fury and reached between its legs to swat at her. She sidestepped its clumsy swipes and looked down at her chest, where half of a star-shaped breadstick poked through the front of her dress.

She looked at Joal in disbelief. "What the hell, honey?" she shouted, pointing furiously at the breadstick.

* * *

 _"Bull's eye!" laughed the Fan Girl._

 _"Missed the bull's eyes by at least seventy feet," the Immortal disagreed._

* * *

"Sorry!" he shouted back, perfectly understanding her meaning despite not hearing a word. He shook his head and gestured for them to regroup.

"Seriously, Joal?" she said sharply when they were close enough to hear each other in spite of the taurus' continued bellowing. "It's one thing if you didn't like the dress, but I thought you'd be more careful with the goods behind it!"

* * *

 _The pink-haired Fan Girl nodded approvingly at the paladin's ire. "They're delicate things, y'know," she added._

* * *

"Sorry! I was trying to toss it over your shoulder," Joal explained, unpacking a lightweight medical kit. "You got up faster than I expected."

She pulled out the bloodstained breadstick and munched on it casually, allowing him to patch her up so she could keep her glare focused on him. "So what's the problem? I was about to destroy it."

He nodded, focused on his work. "We don't have to kill it. In fact, I think we can save it."

She paused for a moment. "All right, I'll bite." She took another bite out of the breadstick. "Save it from what?"

"Imagine that thing with no weapon, no loincloth—"

"No thanks," Vanaah muttered under her breath.

"—pointier teeth, and darker skin. Then put it on all fours. See what I mean?"

She half-turned to look at the colossal taurus, which was slowly rising to its feet. "...You think the taurus is turning into a behemoth?"

Joal nodded, finishing up with the medical kit. "It makes sense. Supposedly, the tauruses... tauri? Anyway, they were supposedly cursed by the gods never to see the sun again, but nobody's ever gotten one to explain the exact details of that curse. And nobody's ever seen a juvenile behemoth; they're always adults, and they're always gigantic.

"Now, this taurus here has skin that's getting darker by the minute, and it's growing, too, but its equipment isn't growing with it. What kind of spell would make a creature grow, but not the equipment it's carrying?"

"Not a common one," Vanaah admitted, examining the repair. "Fix the dress, too, please. I'm not fighting with a wing flap cut into my top."

He sighed and located his emergency sewing kit. "The clincher, though, is this: every behemoth has a trifurcated nose, and we've never had a clue why. Look at that taurus' nose."

She looked.

"The nose ring," she realized aloud. "When it grows, the ring tears its way through the sides and..."

"Splits the nose on both sides," Joal finished, stepping back. "So, what do you think?"

She turned back to look at him. "I think it's a great theory, but it sounds like you want to try to get it indoors or underground."

"Oh, uh, I meant the dress, actually."

Vanaah popped the last of the breadstick into her mouth and looked down. Joal had removed his mask and hastily sewn it onto her dress to cover the damage. "It'll work," she decided.

"It hasn't been able to find cover since it first appeared in the open," Joal pointed out.

Vanaah blinked. "Well, yes, that's why I wanted you to fix the dress."

* * *

 _"Oh, lordy, the double entendres!" the Little Ghoul exclaimed, giggling madly._

* * *

"No, I mean the taurus. We didn't see it menacing people, we saw it crashing into buildings—like it was trying to get inside them."

The paladin nodded. "That still leaves an obvious problem, Joal. We can't cover up something that big."

Joal forced his eyes back up to her face. "R-right," he agreed hastily. "But we might not have to. It's almost dusk. If the sun is really the cause of it, all we have to do is stall it for another half an hour or so."

"That's true," Vanaah sighed. "I much prefer to finish an encounter as quickly as possible. I may enjoy my work, but I'm not in it for sport, like you; I get frustrated when it takes too long."

Joal squeezed her arm encouragingly, his other hand still firm on his ironstar's handle. "We both know you have the endurance to last as long as you need to. Surely you can find the patience, too?"

She smiled and nodded, hefting her massive scythe. "Fine. For you, I'll hold off. Hit and run, in and out: no lethal blows. If you're right about this thing, it'll be worth the trouble."

He nodded. "So let's hope I'm right."

* * *

 _"Isn't Vanaah's deity death and the moon?" asked the Mad Scientist, wrist-deep in scribbled notes._

 _"In a sense, yes," the Blind Wolf confirmed. "She serves Djare. Why do you ask?"_

 _"Just making some calculations," he replied absently, tearing his notes into several pieces and rearranging the pieces according to some inscrutable design._

* * *

A few hours later, Joal and Vanaah sipped tea in a dank cave, their clothing torn and filthy but their spirits high.

"Thank you again," repeated their host, a heavily-bandaged taurus in a very loose-fitting tunic. "Your kind had every right to kill me. The sun drives us mad—I had no idea what I was doing."

"Don't worry about it," Joal assured him, "though if you'd compensate us for the laundry, we'd really appreciate it."

"Laundry? What about the buildings I destroyed?"

"Oh, don't worry about those," Vanaah said, waving her hand dismissively. "It's unpleasant to admit it, but this sort of thing happens all the time. The construction industry depends on it. Chances are the property owners even had insurance."

"Actually," her husband remarked, "we should probably be thanking you ourselves. You made our evening a hell of a lot better."

The taurus raised an eyebrow, unsure of how to respond.

* * *

 _The Little Ghoul burst into gales of laughter._

 _"Nobody would know how to respond to that," she managed to comment once she began to settle down._

* * *

"That's blasphemous, honey," Vanaah teased.

"Then I'll just have to make sure nobody finds out," he replied with a mischievous grin.

* * *

 _"Dammit, Joal!" exclaimed the blonde ghost._

* * *

"Um," the taurus began, but was entirely ignored.

"We're awful at small talk," the paladin said emphatically.

"Awful," Joal echoed, leaning closer.

"This date night thing was a terrible idea," she continued.

"Terrible," he agreed, putting an arm around her.

"Should I—" the taurus tried again.

"Let's never go on another normal date again," Vanaah declared, taking Joal's other hand in hers.

"Never," Joal promised, and pulled her into a passionate kiss.

The taurus cleared his throat, to no avail. After several seconds, he nervously retreated farther into the cave, leaving the couple to themselves.

* * *

 _"...dammit, Joal," the Little Ghoul repeated quietly, blushing._

 _"And that's Interlude #4!" announced the storyteller. "Thrilled to have you all as an audience, as always!"_

 _The Fan Girl clapped eagerly from her nest of pillows and plushies. "You outdid yourself this time! Something about their interactions was fun," she praised._

 _"Thanks!" the wolf replied. "Joal is a terrible influence on Vanaah in the best of ways."_

 _"It works," the willowy woman said, nodding approvingly. "Best couple since the war."_

 _"Er, wait," the Blind Wolf asked as the audience dispersed. "Who was the previous best couple?"_

 _The Fan Girl shrugged. "Well, I guess you could say Arec and Kallistar," she admitted, grimacing. "Or... Before, I never pictured Welsie and Luc together, but now I can't imagine it differently."_

 _"Ah, good." The storyteller wagged her tail. "Just as planned."_

 _"You planned that?" the pink-haired woman repeated, surprised._

 _"Just wait until their third date," hinted the wolf. "Which brings me to a question... Should I continue tonight, or not? We'll be in Round 6 next, so—"_

 _In a flash, the Fan Girl was on her feet and at the table. "Yes!" she demanded, slamming her fist down for emphasis._

 _The Blind Wolf grinned. "Very well, then. Let me get up to stretch my legs. And tongue, I suppose. I'll be back shortly, and we'll continue from there."_


	11. Round 6

_"We're going to start in Room 1," explained the_ _ **Blind Wolf**_ _, "then go to Room 3, then Room 5. Then... other stuff happens. We'll see when we get there."_

 _"Oh, dear," remarked the_ _ **Little Ghoul**_ _, though she looked more eager than unnerved._

 _"You're sitting on your character sheet again," complained the_ _ **Hooded Figure**_ _._

 _"Hush," she snapped. "I'm busy."_

 _The_ _ **Fan Girl**_ _lay on top of her César Grist body mattress, eager for story time once more._

 _"I still need to do something real quick," the storyteller added, "but I'll get started so you can have a bit of a teaser..."_

* * *

 **Round 6, Room 1**

* * *

 **Baenvier** stalked out of the room in a huff, passing by a fellow with a tattered scrap of clothing for a shirt.

 **Gaspar** entered the room and sat down in front of **Alumis** , looking at her intently.

"All right," she said matter-of-factly, "I've learned what a really _good_ date looks like, and what a really _bad_ date looks like. I don't want to waste my time with the latter. Which will it be?"

"My dear," Gaspar said softly, "I am here to share with you the gospel of Naught, the truth in emptiness: all worlds unmade by the perfect Void. Give yourself over to the Naught and be made whole!"

Alumis' eyes narrowed.

"Understood," she replied without moving her lips, and the room began to darken.

* * *

 _The storyteller excused herself and trotted away._

 _"Well, that was certainly a teaser," grumbled the Little Ghoul._

 _"Incoming Ghastly Dread," commented the_ _ **Mad Scientist**_ _, setting a pair of cards on the table._

 _"Isn't that kind of terrible?" asked the Fan Girl._

 _"Awful," the Mad Scientist agreed. "But she's angry, and at least it's fast enough to catch anything he does."_

 _"Hang on," said the Fan Girl, "are we talking about the cards you just played, or what Alumis is about to do to Gaspar?"_

 _The Scientist stared at her blankly, then shrugged._

 _"Back," announced the Blind Wolf after a few more minutes. "Now, let's resume."_

* * *

 **Round 6, Room 3**

* * *

 **Karin** had her head bowed and her eyes closed.

 _Please, gods,_ she prayed, _Wolf King, or anyone, really. Let me have one good date tonight. Failing that, please let Jager be as miserable as I am. Otherwise, I might just have to kill something._

There was a loud clunk as her armored date seated himself across the table from her.

"I hope you're not as empty-headed as the last one," **Baenvier** declared irritably. "Come now, head up, let me have a look at you."

* * *

 _"I am so sorry, Karin," the Little Ghoul said solemnly._

 _"Uh-oh," sighed the storyteller. "Quick, let's change rooms before things turn ugly."_

 _"I agree," the ghost replied, then paused. "On the other hand, if Karin rips Baenvier's throat out, I'd be okay with that."_

 _"To Room 5, then," the wolf continued, "and hopefully we'll stay a bit longer this time."_

 _"This should be fun!" chirped the Fan Girl._

* * *

 **Round 6, Room 5**

* * *

 **Luc** straightened his bow tie and knocked on the door.

"Come on in," called **Welsie**.

He entered, shut the door, and gestured at the seat. "Good evening, ma'am. May I take a seat?"

"Sure," she replied. "Let's straighten things out. Your notes must be pretty confusing."

"It's clear that I decided to leave some information out, yes," he confirmed, seating himself. "At your request?"

She nodded. "If anything my future self told you got back to your past self, and my present self found out about it, then I'd be in even more of a mess than I already am."

"Naturally."

She raised an eyebrow. "You followed all that?"

Luc shrugged. "Practice makes perfect, I suppose. It must be much easier for you."

Welsie shook her head. "You'll be surprised. I mean, you _would_ be surprised," she corrected. "Besides the grammar, the hardest thing is trying to not remember things that haven't happened, or didn't happen."

"Like my date with Karin?" he guessed. "You seemed surprised when I mentioned your advice."

"It can't have been my advice," Welsie explained. "It's advice you told yourself was from me, but I never gave it."

Luc frowned and leaned toward her, staring intently into her unusually-shaped eyes. "Welsie, we've had two very lovely dates so far. Now that we're on our third, perhaps you could explain exactly how you know all this to begin with?"

"Don't ask questions," she remarked. "Time traveler's rule. Though, I suppose I've put this off long enough. First things first: I'm not human. I'm a being of chaos. Things were... interesting between us."

Luc leaned back, visibly shocked. "Not human?"

"Don't ask questions," Welsie repeated. "We had a history, so it's hard for me to see you as a perfect stranger when I remember so much about you that, well, never happened, as far as you're concerned. Anyway, in a certain sense of the word, we have a daughter."

* * *

 _"You would think," observed the Hooded Figure, "given the company he keeps, 'not human' wouldn't make him bat an eye. He had Lymn and Karin as dates 'earlier' in the night, after all."_

 _"He slept through his date with Lymn, actually," replied the wolf with the hint of a smile. "Lost track of time."_

 _"How careless," uttered the Figure with distaste. "I wonder what Lymn thought of that."_

* * *

"What?!" Luc gasped. "I have a daughter?"

"No," Welsie replied.

Luc blinked. "Sorry—did I mishear you? Do I or don't I?"

"No," she repeated.

Luc was quiet for a few minutes. "All right," he admitted, "I'm confused."

Welsie nodded. "Right. Like I said, things were interesting. Anyway, the point is that... eh, working in this language is so awkward. I guess we did a pretty decent job of being on-again-off-again over a decade or two, and we 'had a daughter' at some point, but it got repetitive, and... things started to change. Somewhere in there, you met a younger me, we had a pretty big misunderstanding, and we realized we just weren't headed the same direction. Not your fault," she added hastily, noting his worried expression, "all mine."

Luc shook his head as if to clear it. "Okay, so... I'm a little lost. If we had a relationship, why don't I remember it? Is it still in the future?"

"That's where things get really strange," she warned him. "And, well, if you don't want to know, now's the time to back out."

His eyes shone fiercely. "I have to know."

"Yeah, I expected you'd say that." Welsie sighed. "All right, here goes. We were never together."

"Come again?" he asked after a moment.

"Your daughter's mother's name is Welsie Von Gott," she said. "But that's not my name—it never was, and it never will be."

"Then we never marry?" he asked, confused. "But..."

"We never had a relationship," she continued, "we were never married, and we certainly never had a daughter."

"You've just told me two completely contradictory stories," he pointed out.

"Yes," Welsie agreed, sighing again. "That's the problem. One of them is the version that really happened: we met for the first time tonight, and we never knew each other before today. But the other is the version that Welsie Von Gott told me."

"I thought you said that was never your name?"

"It wasn't, it isn't, and it won't be—which is a bit disturbing, since I know when I'm talking to myself, past or future."

"How do you—" he started.

"Don't ask questions. But Welsie Von Gott did tell me about our history, even if she didn't exist. It was like she was a... different Welsie, somehow. Don't ask me how. I've never had it happen before, and I never will again, as far as I can tell."

"But if we never had that history, our child was never born," Luc reasoned. "Right?"

Welsie was silent.

* * *

 _"Oh boy," whispered the Fan Girl._

 _"Major schism incoming," the Blind Wolf warned. "Those sensitive to canon compliance or with weak suspension of disbelief may wish to remove themselves at this time."_

* * *

"Right?" Luc asked, beginning to become unsettled.

"So, causality is a funny thing," Welsie began.

"What... does that mean?" he said slowly.

* * *

 _"Dammit, Welsie!" shouted the Little Ghoul._

 _"Sorry about the screaming," the Mad Scientist remarked._

 _The other audience members looked at him in confusion._

 _"...Oh, was that in my head? Never mind, then," he said airily, returning to his work._

* * *

"I never had her," Welsie reiterated. "You never had her. We never met each other, so, obviously, we never had her."

"Yes, obviously," he agreed, waiting for the caveat.

* * *

 _"Welsieeeee!" cried the Fan Girl impatiently._

 _The Little Ghoul looked over at her and nodded._

* * *

"But... it turns out that doesn't make much of a difference to our daughter. She, ah, takes after me in that regard."

Luc found that he'd stopped breathing. He tried to ask another question, but nothing came out.

"So," Welsie continued, "she exists in all the times that she would've existed, just as if she'd never not existed in the first place. Well, more or less. She exists and doesn't exist at the same time."

"Our daughter exists?" Luc finally managed to gasp.

Welsie winced. "Okay, so, causality, remember? There's a girl who doesn't exist who is our daughter, and a girl who _does_ exist who _isn't_ our daughter. The problem is that they're the same girl, which is why this is a little hard to explain."

* * *

 _"Nope, still going with 'dammit, Welsie,'" the Little Ghoul decided._

 _"So, wait," the Fan Girl puzzled aloud. "Is he... dating his daughter? I'm confused!"_

* * *

"Where—how—no, _who_ is she?" Luc stumbled over his words trying to spit out the right question.

"'When' might've been the right one," Welsie remarked dryly, but as soon as she met his eyes, he had her. "I'm a sucker for you, Luc," she admitted. "Or at least I was, apparently. I have no idea where she is. I'm honestly not sure if it's possible to know where she is. But one Welsie or another has run into her from time to time, and we all agree that she's doing pretty well for herself, when or if she exists at all."

Luc cleared his throat and swallowed, forcing himself to calm down. _It's a life that never happened, another time that never existed as far as I knew before tonight,_ he reminded himself. _If she needs me, I'll be there—but I can't torture myself for never knowing in the first place._

"So, yeah, that's pretty much going to rule out us getting serious," Welsie was saying. "I had no idea something like that could happen, and there are quite enough shenanigans for me to track in the timeline as it is. I like you, but I don't want to have any more kids, and you've always wanted them."

He nodded. "What's her name?" he asked, his voice finally steady.

* * *

 _The blonde ghost leaned forward and nibbled her ethereal nails nervously, for all the difference it made; the Fan Girl hid under her blanket, awaiting the reveal._

* * *

Welsie shrugged. "That's also hard to pin down. It might be Clara, or it might be Lucky. It might also be Ren or Katherine. 'And/or,' I should say."

Luc furrowed his brow.

* * *

 _"Oh." The Little Ghoul leaned back with a fwump. "Well, then. That's a thing."_

 _"I warned of impending schism!" the Blind Wolf reminded._

 _"I don't see any problems, though," the ghost replied with a shrug._

* * *

"But she usually seems to like calling herself 'Danger Kat,'" Welsie added. "In reference to her own... unique fighting style."

Luc blinked. "'Danger Kat?' That sounds like a character in a comic book."

Welsie nodded. "It is, actually. Or it was, later from now."

* * *

 _"WHAT!" cried the Fan Girl, gaping. "That—that's my character's name!"_

 _"I can practically feel the gazes turning to face the fourth wall," the Mad Scientist murmured, "staring with remarkable intensity."_

* * *

"Will I ever see her?" he wondered.

"Doubtful," Welsie remarked flatly. "Unlike me, she seems to have a pretty good sense of how to stay _out_ of the world's major plotlines."

Luc shook his head in wonder. "Thanks for telling me all this, Welsie. You didn't have to say a thing, and it would've been easier on you not to mention."

Once again, her face broadened into that smile she reserved exclusively for him.

"Like I said, Luc, you're a good guy. You're true to your self, and the self you're true to isn't a disaster. Plus, I love the role you play in history. As you might imagine, it's of great personal interest to me."

"Personal interest?" he asked, raising an eyebrow inquiringly.

She laid a hand on his across the table.

"Oh, yes," she assured him. "Very personal interest."

He drew his hand back. "Hold on," he said sharply.

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"It's not that I don't trust you," he stated, fidgeting. "Or, certainly, that I don't like you... But this is a lot to take in. Do you have any kind of proof that what you're telling me could be real?"

She frowned, but nodded. "That's a question. But I do have something, and since I don't want you up all night worrying about this being some kind of long con, I'll show it to you."

Welsie reached into a hidden pocket in her vest and withdrew a small, charred scrap of folded paper. She held it up so Luc could see it.

"Apparently, these two little words are supposed to prove everything I've told you beyond the shadow of a doubt," she explained, and handed it to him across the table. "And I'd really love to know how, since they don't mean anything to—"

Luc handed the paper back to her after only the briefest glance at its contents.

She blinked, nonplussed. "Well?"

"Don't ask questions," he said simply, then offered a warm smile. "And I owe you another kiss by now, I'm sure."

* * *

 _"Annnd cut to Room 6," the storyteller declared._

 _"This is wonderful," remarked the Ghoul, "but you're insane."_

 _"NOOOO!" howled the Fan Girl, jumping up from her mattress. "Go back! Go back!"_

 _"That's what she said," replied the wolf, smiling. "If 'she' was Welsie, anyway."_

 _The pink-haired Fan Girl screamed in frustration, then stopped and shot the wolf a suspicious glare. "Was that a dirty joke?"_

 _"No," the storyteller answered calmly, "it was a time travel joke cleverly disguised as a dirty joke."_

 _"So, I was close!" concluded the Fan Girl._

 _The Little Ghoul gestured for the Fan Girl to join her at her table, then silently handed her an ethereal tomato and pointed at the storyteller._

* * *

 **Round 6, Room 6**

* * *

 **Jager** eyed the figure across the table from him, sniffing suspiciously.

"What?" asked **Sagas**. "Oh, the smell?"

He lowered his shades and winked, causing the wolf to jerk backwards as if struck.

"I know," Sagas agreed.

The dapper wolf barked quietly.

"No, of course not," the redhead stated flatly. "I'm here for the same reasons you are."

Jager blinked, surprised.

"...Well, I go about it differently, of course," Sagas admitted.

The two sat in silence for a few moments.

"Hey," Sagas said suddenly. "You like weapons, right?"

Jager barked in approval.

"Take a look, then." The doppelganger laid his staff on the table, allowing the wolf to examine it in detail.

The wolf barked again.

"No, it's mine," Sagas replied. "My very own..." He trailed off, and his gaze wandered to some faraway place.

Abruptly, Jager sat bolt upright and let out a sharp yip.

"You need to what?" the redhead asked, confused.

The dapper wolf jumped down to the floor and bolted out the door without further explanation.

"Weird," Sagas remarked.

Out in the hall, Jager stumbled into the wall as his feet rather abruptly wound up beneath him.

"Ow! What gives, Karin?" he grunted, staggering upright.

Down the hall, another door opened and another figure bolted into the hall. This one had green hair.

"Crazy bitch!" Baenvier shouted, slamming the door to the room behind him. He jumped as the door shook from impact; fierce barking and scratching sounds came from the other side.

He looked up, caught Jager's eye, and scowled.

"Feral as a dog," he declared, "and twice as ugly. The women around here are pathetic."

"Oh, sure," agreed Jager, smiling disarmingly.

* * *

 _"No, the women around here have brains," the Little Ghoul corrected, fanning herself indignantly._

* * *

As the green-haired vaum stormed past, Jager casually stuck out his leg and tripped him.

Baenvier pushed himself to his feet and spun around, but the other fellow was already gone.

* * *

 _"Good boy," the Fan Girl called out approvingly._

 _"Huh, weird," the Mad Scientist remarked, examining a peculiar contraption covered in buttons. "Moon turned red all of a sudden." He set the device on the table and started digging around in his backpack for a fresh notebook._

 _"Red moon's all the rage these days," quipped the Little Ghoul._

 _"End Round 6!" the Blind Wolf announced. "But Date Night isn't over. Everyone in the speed dating event will be given a chance to review their results for potential matches—that was the point, after all."_

 _"So, Welsie and Luc," the blonde ghost theorized, scribbling on a convenient piece of paper._

 _"YES!" the Fan Girl shouted, slamming her hand down on the table and inadvertently pressing one of the buttons on the Scientist's device._

 _"And Alumis and Rexan, maybe," the Little Ghoul tallied, continuing her scribbling. "Otherwise, nope. Oh! Karin and Marms?"_

 _The Fan Girl slammed her fist down again, pressing more buttons. "YES!" she repeated._

 _"Iri and Jager, too?" the ghost suggested. "Of course, Gaspar, Sagas, and Baenvier lose..."_

 _"So many characters," the Hooded Figure sighed. "How do you keep track?"_

 _"Well," she confessed, "I have nicknames for them in my head. Sassy Welsie, Blockhead Luc, Awkward Alumis, Sexy Rexy—"_

 _"What about Lymn?" the Hooded Figure interjected._

 _"She might end up with Jager just because, well, really." The girl continued to scribble theories on the paper._

 _"The epilogues will be as follows," the Blind Wolf cut in. "Jager, Rexan, Marmelee, Alumis, Karin, and Sagas, followed by Luc's return, Baenvier's party, and one solstice night date. They're going to be pretty quick. Should I try to finish this tonight?"_

 _"Oh, fun!" cheered the Fan Girl. "Please do!"_

 _"Please don't," objected the Little Ghoul. "I need to go to bed, and I'm actively invested in this storyline." She started to put away her notes._

 _The Mad Scientist emerged with a fresh notebook, then glimpsed the ghost's sheet of notes. "Hey!" He reached through her incorporeal form and snatched them away. "I was using those!"_

 _The Little Ghoul shrugged. "I didn't have paper on hand."_

 _"My notes!" he cried in dismay, trying in vain to rub off the phantasmal ink that covered up his calculations. "And I may have just finished rewiring the buttons!"_

 _"The buttons?" asked the Blind Wolf, confused._

 _The peculiar contraption on the table began beeping._

 _"Oh, shi—" the Fan Girl began._

 _"THE BUTTONS!" yelped the Little Ghoul, jumping from the table to hide behind one of the Fan Girl's dolls._

 _"Is that a bomb?!" the storyteller demanded._

 _The Mad Scientist cackled. "It was! As for now, my list now says the buttons she pressed are wired to 'Sassy Welsie' and 'Sexy Rexy,' so who knows!"_

 _"How many batteries on the bomb?" the Blind Wolf asked. "And is there a lit indicator labeled—"_

 _"SEVENTEEN!" shouted the madman in a state of feverish triumph. "All of them, beautiful! And one is a hamster!"_

 _"We'll continue later!" the storyteller called out as the group hurriedly dispersed. "Thank you all for joining me! For now—evacuate!"_


	12. Epilogue 1: Wrap-Up

_The **Ribbon Girl** , a pale-haired knight with opalescent armor, stepped back and wiped her brow. "How's it look?"_

 _"I have no idea," the **Blind Wolf** replied, then hopped atop the repaired table. It creaked, but held her weight. "But it seems to work."_

 _The Ribbon Girl nodded and withdrew._

 _"Now that I've got my table rebuilt," the storyteller announced, "is anyone interested in—"_

 _An ethereal tentacle emerged through a rift in time and space—which happened to appear inside the table, cracking it open and ruining the recent repairs._

 _"Tamer!" the wolf shouted, struggling to keep her balance as the table wobbled wildly beneath her paws._

 _"Hi there!" called the **Tentacle Tamer** , an incomprehensible being from beyond time and space. "I'm ready! I brought my best formal dress for the occasion!"_

 _A large bundle of tentacles emerged through the rift, ensconced in a formal dress of exquisite craftsmanship._

 _The storyteller leaped to the ground, allowed the table to collapse, and sniffed with disgust. "I don't know what you're wearing, but I'm sure I don't want to know where it came from."_

 _"Don't judge!" the Tamer whined, vanishing back into the rift._

 _"That was weird," observed the **Little Ghoul** , a childlike ghost with red eyes and long, blonde hair. She was casually sitting in midair at about chair height._

 _The tentacles reappeared through a much larger rift, this time wearing a suit jacket over the formal dress—and carrying with it the **Pesky Prankster** , a brown-haired lad attired in flashy garb of many colors._

 _"—naked ten-year-olds," the Prankster was saying, then stopped abruptly and looked around._

 _The audience stared at him, and a long, silent moment passed._

 _"What?!" he demanded. "We were talking about a show, okay? Where these ten-year-old kids have to turn into monsters to save the world!"_

 _The Blind Wolf shook her head. "I'm just going to—"_

 _"And they're depicted as naked inside the monsters—"_

 _"Tonight, Jager—"_

 _"And I swear in context it's—"_

 _"Ducks?" the Little Ghoul piped up._

 _The Prankster stared blankly, confused enough to stop talking for a few moments._

 _"Thanks," sighed the storyteller, nodding toward the blonde ghost. "Anyway—"_

 _"Well, I suppose they can't transform with their clothes on," interrupted the **Planebound** , a stony-featured elemental with one gleaming, crystalline eye. "They'd tear them to shreds."_

 _The group fell silent again._

 _"So, something about Jager?" the **Hooded Figure** eventually prompted, his features completely invisible in the darkness beneath his hood._

 _"Er, right." The Blind Wolf cleared her throat. "So! Everyone involved in the dating event was given the option of reviewing his or her matches with the organizer. Baenvier and Gaspar declined."_

 _"Can't imagine why," the Little Ghoul remarked dryly as she poked around the debris at her feet. She'd begun gathering the charred remains of a document that hadn't survived the explosion._

 _"How's your Psyframe?" murmured the Hooded Figure, eyeing the ruined document._

 _"Luc popped in," the Blind Wolf continued, "but only long enough to tell the organizer he was sure he'd hear from his date if the timing was right. He gave no further explanation."_

 _"Wait!" gasped the Pesky Prankster. "Can I... join?!"_

 _The Blind Wolf and the Hooded Figure exchanged glances, notwithstanding their mutual lack of visible eyes._

 _"Sure, why not?" sighed the wolf. "As I was saying, Baenvier, Gaspar, and Luc all bowed out. Jager, though..."_

 _"...Bow_ wowed _instead?" the Prankster supplied, snickering._

 _The storyteller made no response._

* * *

 **Wrap-Up 1: Jager Brandtford**

* * *

A silver-haired gentleman in a top hat and a tattered coat sat down across the table from the event organizer and flashed a winning smile.

"Jagger?" she asked, looking at his schedule.

He sighed. "It's pronounced **Jager**. But, well, close enough." _Don't compliment her on her scent,_ he reminded himself.

* * *

 _"What's he gonna do," scoffed the Prankster, "take a big whiff and say, 'you smell nice?'"_

 _"Yeah, that's exactly what he did," said the Planebound._

 _"Such etiquette," quipped the Little Ghoul. "Many wow."_

 _"His moves are_ nothing _like Jagger's," the Tentacle Tamer stated huffily._

* * *

"So, you'd like to review your matches," she said hesitantly, shuffling through the review cards that had been turned in.

He nodded in the affirmative. "Especially Lymn! She was amazing."

"Yes," the organizer replied dubiously. "I see you referred to her as 'the girl of your dreams.'"

Jager nodded eagerly.

* * *

 _"I ship 'em," the Tamer whispered so loudly it left the storyteller's ears ringing. "Call it 'puppy love.'"_

* * *

The organizer cleared her throat and avoided his eyes. "Ah, well... She didn't rate you especially negatively, but..."

Jager's face fell.

"...Apparently, she considered you a bit, um. Wordy."

"Wordy?" he objected.

"And too forward," she added.

"I knew I shouldn't have told her how good she smelled!" Jager said, snapping his fingers.

The organizer stared.

* * *

 _The Little Ghoul rolled over in midair, laughing hysterically. "Dammit, Lymn!"_

 _"Well," the Prankster pointed out, "Jager CAN be a bit of a dog."_

 _"Not a sly enough one, apparently!"_

 _"Also," the Hooded Figure interjected, "How did Lymn mark those cards? Could you explain how a wolf holds a pen?"_

 _"Not a chance," replied the storyteller, jotting down a quick note to herself before continuing on._

* * *

"I mean, uh... Thanks anyway. Lesson learned, I suppose."

He started to get up.

"Wait—don't you want to know about your other results?"

He blinked and sat back down. "Other results? Oh, right, there were other dates."

She nodded. "You also received a very warm review from Irialandradayamorella."

"From... who?" he asked, bewildered.

* * *

 _"He's as bad as Luc," the Little Ghoul complained, sticking out her tongue. "Got to be impressed with that organizer's elocution, though."_

 _"She couldn't pronounce 'Jager,' but she managed 'Irialandradayamorella?'" asked the **Radio Girl** , a cool-eyed woman in colorful, metallic clubwear._

 _"Iri probably just likes him because he looks like a shounen butler type," the Prankster suggested._

 _"Oh, you didn't see the date," the ghoul remarked airily. "He was a wolf."_

 _The Pesky Prankster blinked. "I see. So Iri is a furry?"_

 _The Blind Wolf raised an eyebrow. "A what?"_

* * *

The organizer checked her notes. "Um... 'Magical Knight Iri.'"

"Oh, the girl who spoke dog!"

The organizer stared, then shook herself. "Er... Anyway, she said you were a great conversationalist, and she'd be interested in 'practicing with you some more.'"

* * *

 _"Hah!" exclaimed the Prankster. "She thought she was training him!"_

* * *

"Oh, well..." Jager shook his head. "Thanks, but I spend too much time playing the dog as it is. I think I'll be going now."

The organizer shrugged. "Happy solstice!" she called as he left.

* * *

 _"Hey!_ _You never told us anything about the organizer!" the Little Ghoul realized, donning her most vicious glare and directing it at the storyteller._

 _"Correct," the Blind Wolf replied with a smile._ _"So, that was Jager. A few minutes later..."_

* * *

 **Wrap-Up 2: Overlord Cairngort Rexan**

* * *

"Wow, sir," the organizer said, looking through the review cards. "You received positive reviews from almost everyone."

* * *

 _"You da man, Rexan!" cheered the Prankster._

* * *

"Almost?" **Rexan** asked, amused.

"Well, one of your dates did refer to you as... um... 'a dreaded blight upon the world, anathema without peer and sworn enemy of all that is true and holy in this world.'"

He nodded. "Yes, that would be Servi. He's all right, though."

She nodded. "Strangely, he still gave you a neutral review. The same as you gave him, in fact."

* * *

 _The Prankster burst into laughter. "How's that work?" he asked when he'd calmed down. "'I hate you, but I guess you're... okay?'"_

 _The Little Ghoul shrugged. "It's Sagas," she pointed out. "What do you want?"_

 _Matthew "Gareon" Fowler: 10/10_

* * *

"Let me cut to the chase," said the man with gorgeous hair, leaning across the table and fixing her with a sharp-eyed gaze that she couldn't seem to break. "I'm interested in only one person. The very first person I met tonight: a woman by the name of Alumis."

The organizer swallowed. "Well, um..." She couldn't break eye contact to look down at the review cards, so she held up the cards in front of her face to block her view of him. "It looks like she gave you a positive review, as well. Ooh, she found you 'intriguing.'"

* * *

 _"Alumis and Se—I mean, Rexy!" the Little Ghoul declared, motioning as if she was handling a ship's wheel. "I'm sailing away on that ship!"_

 _"I think this is less about dating," argued the Pesky Prankster, who was standing just beside her, "and more about... ulterior motives."_

 _"Sailing!" repeated the Little Ghoul, veering her imaginary ship hard to starboard._

 _The Prankster jumped away from the vessel's collision course, despite the ship being clearly imaginary. "Dating it is," he agreed, donning an appeasing smile._

* * *

The Overlord smiled. She couldn't see his face, but she shuddered involuntarily as he did.

"I understand that the burden of outreach is on the woman in this particular event?" he asked.

The organizer nodded, still hiding behind the cards.

"Then give her my information. I look forward to meeting her again in a more private venue." He rose and swept out of the room, leaving the organizer in a daze.

* * *

 _"And that's Rexan," the storyteller announced. "He's the last of the, ah, 'guys.'"_

 _"Oh, right," the Hooded Figure said, catching on. "You didn't say that Marms declined."_

 _"Where's the Fan Girl?" demanded the Little Ghoul. "She needs to be fangirling about this!"_

 _A pink-haired head popped up out of a mountain of fluff—the gruesome remains of countless slaughtered pillows. "Present!" called the willowy **Fan Girl** , reaching up to adjust her thick glasses._

 _The Prankster yelped and jumped again, startled by her sudden appearance right behind him._

 _"All is now right with the fandom," murmured the Hooded Figure._

* * *

 **Wrap-Up 3: Marmelee Greyheart**

* * *

 **Marmelee Greyheart** sat down and immediately started apologizing before the organizer even had a chance to greet her.

"Look, um, this was a very nice event, but I sort of misunderstood. I thought it was strictly about meeting new friends, not, um, seeking out new romances..."

* * *

 _"Is Marms too precious for this world?" the Prankster remarked, and it was hard to tell whether or not he meant it._

 _"So, so pure," sighed the Fan Girl, wiping a tear from her eye. "So sweet and innocent, like a cinnamon roll."_

* * *

The organizer blinked. "Huh. Really? You had great reviews across the board."

Marmelee blushed. "I... I did?"

* * *

 _"That's because Marms is awesome," the Little Ghoul declared._

 _"If she's a cinnamon roll," reasoned the Prankster, "does that make Arec a..._ sin _namon roll? Eh? Eh?"_

 _The Fan Girl lobbed the remains of a pillow toward him, but it disintegrated en route._

 _"Missed me!" the Prankster taunted, making a face._

 _The Little Ghoul promptly smacked him in the back of the head with her playbill._

* * *

"Yes," the organizer confirmed, skimming the review cards. "Although most of them didn't seem romantically interested, either, based on their reviews." She looked up and smiled. "At least you made some new friends, right?"

Marmelee smiled and nodded. "Yes... Yes, that's right!"

* * *

 _"I love how positive she is!" cheered the Fan Girl._

* * *

She started to rise to leave, but the organizer gestured for her to stop. "Hang on. You still have a couple possible matches here."

The willowy woman's eyes widened behind her thick spectacles. "I... what?"

* * *

 _"Sagas," predicted the Little Ghoul. "He matches everyone."_

* * *

"There are two people who rated you exactly as high as you rated them," the organizer explained, "and who didn't have any other viable matches. Do you mind if I provide them with your information?"

Marmelee blushed to her ears. "I—well, I don't—I mean—"

* * *

 _"Super blush!" the ghostly girl chirped._

* * *

"You don't have to," the organizer assured her in a soothing voice. "Don't do anything that makes you uncomfortable. You can just say no."

"Well, um," the pink-haired woman stammered. After a pause, she smiled shyly and asked, "Who were they?"

* * *

 _"Now, let's skip to Alumis—"_

 _"Nope," said the Little Ghoul, interrupting the storyteller._

 _The Blind Wolf stopped, confused. "Sorry?"_

 _"Go back to Marmelee," the ghost growled in a voice she probably thought was menacing. "Or else!"_

 _"Or else what?" the storyteller asked, amused._

 _"Or I'll rain tomatoes on you! I'll chase you off the stage! I'll finish the story myself!"_

 _The Blind Wolf yawned. "No deal."_

 _"Wouldn't tomatoes be more of a hail?" wondered the Hooded Figure._

 _"Come on, what's the rush?" laughed the Prankster. "We all know one of them isn't happening."_

 _"What!" shrieked the Fan Girl, trying to claw her way out of a mountain of fluff. "Why would you say that?!"_

 _The Prankster shrank away fearfully. "Wh-what? I thought Marmelee liked Karin as a big sister," he clarified. "You know, as opposed to a 'I wanna make out with that wolf lady' way."_

 _"That's how Karin thinks of Marmelee," the Little Ghoul corrected. "We don't know what Marmelee thinks of Karin."_

 _"Ohh," the Pesky Prankster said quietly. "My mistake. Carry on."_

* * *

 **Wrap-Up 4: Alumis**

* * *

 **Alumis** glided into the room gracefully, then sat down with an unceremonious fwump.

"Well, you had... some really great dates," the organizer said brightly.

* * *

 _"This organizer, though," the Prankster remarked, "is mom material. Is Alumis in pretty mode or Rasp mode? 'Cause I want her to be in Rasp mode."_

 _"Pretty mode," replied the Little Ghoul, who was carefully arranging three costumed dolls around the Blind Wolf._

 _"Dang it," sighed the Prankster. "I want her to—"_

 _"All right!" announced the ghost, pointing menacingly at the storyteller. "I've assembled my minions!"_

 _"The dolls?" whispered the Hooded Figure, leaning over to the Prankster._

 _The Prankster pretended not to hear. He seemed rather put out at being ignored._

 _"If you don't scene shift back to Marms," the Little Ghoul threatened, "I'm going to Scene Shift_ you! _"_

* * *

"Cairngort," Alumis stated flatly.

The organizer looked taken aback. "Um. Would you like to know who else was—"

"Give me Cairngort's information," she demanded. "I'm going to see him."

* * *

 _"Kiss him already!" the Prankster shouted._

* * *

The organizer nodded and handed her a piece of paper, which she snatched up before standing to leave.

"Have a lovely evening!" the organizer called as she left.

Alumis paused in the doorway. "I will," she remarked. "And an even better _night._ "

* * *

 _"So, back to Marms?" the hopeful Little Ghoul suggested._

 _"No," corrected the storyteller, "now we go to Karin."_

 _"Boooo!" jeered the Prankster. "Bring back the dragon lady!"_

 _"All right, you asked for it!" the ghost declared, gesturing grandly. "Storyteller Scene Shift, go!"_

 _Her dolls sat motionless in their places._

 _"Come on, guys!" she scolded. "We rehearsed this!"_

* * *

 **Wrap-Up 5: Karin**

* * *

 **Karin** took her seat with a resigned expression.

"Here we go," she sighed. "How bad is it?"

* * *

 _"Totally bad!" mocked the Pesky Prankster._

 _"I do feel a bit bad for Karin's dates," the Hooded Figure admitted._

 _"Come on!" the Little Ghoul objected, stomping her foot. "Why won't you change scenes?"_

 _"She's just messing with you," the Prankster explained. "I'd know. I'm the master of that stuff."_

 _The ghost shot him a scowl, and he cowered away from her gaze._

 _The Hooded Figure raised a hand. "I do think that the more you goad her, the more she is tempted to just leave Marmelee's evening as a cliffhanger," he pointed out. "It's not like it's crucial to the story or anything."_

 _"IT IS THE STORY!" the Little Ghoul roared, rounding on the Hooded Figure. As soon as she turned away, the Prankster snatched her unattended playbill and made a series of rapid modifications, then replaced it just as swiftly._

 _"If you're going to rant, can you do it between the lines?" the Blind Wolf asked wearily. "Otherwise, it takes up a lot of space."_

 _After the Little Ghoul finished her her rant at the Hooded Figure, she turned back around, picked up her playbill, and stuck her nose in it, busily ignoring the Hooded Figure's vain attempts to reason with her._

* * *

The organizer looked through her review cards. "Um... well..."

"Go on," Karin prodded. "I'm a big girl, and I hated most of those dates anyway."

* * *

 _"Did they like her?" the Fan Girl asked urgently._

 _"Hurry it up!" the Prankster added. "We need to get back to the dragon lady!"_

* * *

The organizer sighed. "You were given some creative nicknames," she admitted. "And a single very repetitive one."

Karin blinked, then laughed aloud, startling the other woman. "They called me a bitch, right?"

"Well, yes," said the organizer, surprised.

* * *

 _"At least they got that right!" cheered the Prankster, snickering uncontrollably._

 _The Fan Girl hurled a handful of pillow stuffing in his direction, then watched sadly as the fluff floated harmlessly to the ground without effect. "I need to replace my pillow collection," she observed._

* * *

"Yeah, that's nothing to worry about," Karin said, still chuckling. "What else?"

"Well, I'm obligated to remind you that this event is intended to be a safe place for anyone to come and meet anyone else. Violence is strictly prohibited."

Karin thought for a moment. _Would've been worth it if I'd gotten hold of him,_ she decided. "Noted," she replied aloud.

* * *

 _"Wait, did she attack someone?" asked the Little Ghoul, looking up._

 _"Baenvier, remember?" the Fan Girl confirmed. "And he deserved it."_

 _The ghost frowned and flipped through her playbill in confusion._

* * *

"Apart from that," the organizer said, looking through the cards again, "it looks like you only had one match. Fortunately, she agreed to share her information with you."

"One match is better than I—wait. She?" Karin repeated, raising an eyebrow.

The organizer handed her a paper with contact information.

* * *

 _"It's obviously Marms," objected the Little Ghoul. "They already know each other!"_

 _"Hell yeah it is!" crowed the Fan Girl, then blushed as the other audience members turned to look at her. "Umm, I mean, yay?"_

 _"That paper's about as useful as those notes I stole from Mad," the Little Ghoul continued grumpily._

 _"They_ would've _been useful," pointed out the Hooded Figure, "if you hadn't scribbled all over them."_

* * *

Karin skimmed it and sighed. "I'm going to have to talk to her about giving out my contact details. I suppose I am easier to reach, though."

"Oh! You already know each other?"

"Yeah, I'm her body—" Karin stopped herself. "We're close friends. I guess neither of us found a date tonight."

The organizer smiled. "Maybe not, but at least neither of you will be alone, right?"

* * *

 _The Prankster groaned. "Body?! What does that even MEAN? This is excruciating! I don't care who it is, I want two ladies kissing now!"_

 _He ducked as a costumed doll swung at the back of his head._

 _"She was saying 'bodyguard,' moron," sighed the Little Ghoul. "Geez, it's like you've never been to a show before."_

 _"She ain't got no body," Tamer explained._

 _"Huh?" asked the Fan Girl, taking the bait. "Why not?"_

 _The tentacle monster seemed to take a deep breath, then belted out: "SHE JUST WANTS SOME BODY TO L—"_

* * *

Karin sighed and offered a rueful smile in return. "Yeah, I guess. All right, well, I guess I'm out. Happy solstice." She rose to leave.

"Happy solstice!" the organizer called back.

* * *

 _The Little Ghoul hurled a tomato at one of the Tamer's tentacles, but a vicious-looking claw reached from the shadows and snatched the tomato out of midair._

 _"How has nobody tried that yet?" wondered the storyteller._

 _"I'm not entirely sure," mused the Little Ghoul. "Maybe because I've only thrown them at you, and you don't have hands."_

 _"Point," agreed the storyteller._

 _The claw and the tomato vanished into the shadows, and the sound of ominous crunching emerged from within._

 _"Crunching?" objected the Hooded Figure. "Tomatoes don't crunch. They smush."_

 _"Crunching is more satisfying," retorted the darkness. "My shadows, my sound effects."_

 _"Next is Sagas!" declared the Blind Wolf. "Iri and Lymn declined to follow up, and Welsie said she already had."_

 _"Aww, I did actually want to know what Lymn thought of her dates," the Hooded Figure sighed. "Why in Indines is she at this event anyway?"_

* * *

 **Wrap-Up 6: Sagas**

* * *

The red-haired doppelganger seated himself across the table from the organizer, looking relaxed and poised at the same time.

"Well, Mr. Seities, you certainly are an interesting one," she remarked, looking through his review cards.

"Am I?" **Sagas** asked without a hint of sarcasm.

* * *

 _"This doesn't seem right," said the Little Ghoul, flipping through her playbill again._

 _The Hooded Figure reached over to her program and deftly switched it with his own._

 _"Ah, it makes sense again!" the ghost exclaimed with relief after a moment's study._

 _"Hey!" complained the Pesky Prankster. "I set that up pages ago—you ruined the punchline!"_

* * *

"Oh, yes," she assured him. "This is the first time I've ever seen someone rate every person they met exactly as high as they were rated by that person."

He shrugged. "I guess we saw things the same way."

The organizer skimmed the cards in more details. "It does appear that you received some consistently negative feedback... Oh, but you do have one match."

Sagas waited for her to continue.

* * *

 _"This is taking_ forever, _" moaned the Prankster. "I'm sick of waiting around for something to happen. Forget this, losers—I'm OUT!"_

 _He walked away and conjured a door in midair, then created a huge cloud of smoke to cover his escape._

* * *

"She said you were 'quite a nice fellow, and very understanding,'" the organizer elaborated. "She also said that you have quite a lot in common."

He nodded. "I get that a lot. What was the negative feedback?"

* * *

 _The Little Ghoul gasped. "Marms again!"_

 _The Fan Girl cheered quietly._

 _The smoke cleared, but the Prankster was still pushing on the door, which seemed to be stuck. It finally gave, and he unceremoniously tumbled through the door, which slammed shut after him and vanished._

* * *

The organizer looked through the reviews. "Well... It seems everyone else found you, er. Highly annoying." She flipped through the cards. "Hm, this one says 'it was like being on a date with the most annoying person in the world.'"

* * *

 _"So what you're saying," asked the blonde ghost, "is that spending time with yourself is highly annoying?"_

 _"Try it sometime," the Blind Wolf suggested.  
_

* * *

Sagas nodded. "That'd be Gaspar. He sees himself in everyone."

The organizer handed him a piece of paper, but he pushed it away.

* * *

 _"I guess he'll prophet Naught from this event," muttered the Little Ghoul._

* * *

"Nah," he said. "I'm not here to find a date."

The organizer looked at him curiously. "Then why review your matches?"

"I like hearing other people's perspectives," he said. "And I wanted a chance to spend more time with you. I come to these things just to be around people—as many as possible, as much as possible."

She balked. "Did you say with _me?_ I'm not a participant!"

He nodded. "I know that. But like I said, I didn't come here to find a date. I just find it relaxing to be around people."

He tilted his head so his shades reflected her face directly back at her.

"It helps me clear my head," he explained. "Reflect on things."

* * *

 _The Fan Girl groaned. After a split second, the rest of the audience followed suit._

* * *

She blushed and looked away. "W-well, Mr. Seities, I hope you have a pleasant solstice."

He nodded and rose. "Likewise, **Ms. Arlington**."

She started to put her papers away, then realized something. "How did you know my—"

Sagas was gone.

* * *

 _"And that's it for Epilogue 1: Wrap-Up!" announced the storyteller. "There remain three further epilogues: Luc's return home, Baenvier's party, and the solstice date."_

 _The Hooded Figure coughed quietly. "Could you perhaps actually answer my question about why Lymn was at the event at all?"_

 _"I could," replied the Blind Wolf with a wink, "but I won't."_

 _The Hooded Figure sighed._

 _"Instead," continued the wolf, "I'm going to take a quick break and see who's still around when I return. See you in a few!"_


	13. Epilogue 2: Luc's Return

_"Back," announced the **Blind Wolf** , trotting to her usual place next to what remained of a broken table. "So, is anyone still around?"_

 _"I'm up for it!" the pink-haired **Fan Girl** piped up from a bed of fluff and debris._

 _"I'm busy doing something else, sorry," muttered the **Little Ghoul** , a blonde ghost girl with red eyes. She seemed distracted by a complex ritual involving a pile of paper scraps._

 _"Oh, is it story time again?" the **Hooded Figure** asked, unfolding from where it had sat down to rest._

 _"So I've heard," remarked the **New Guy**. "It's my first time, though."_

 _"Well, duh," commented an unfathomable entity from beyond time and space. "It says so on your dialogue tags."_

 _"His what?" asked the **Radio Girl** , a colorful young woman with large, flamboyant loops of auburn hair and a penchant for metallic apparel._

 _"Dialogue tags," the **Tentacle Tamer** repeated. "It says 'New Guy.'"_

 _"Fourth wall!" scolded the storyteller._

 _"Wait, what? Does nobody else see those?"_

 _"Moving on!" she barked._

 _"Fine," sighed the Tamer, withdrawing its tentacles through a rift in midair._

* * *

 **Luc Von Gott** pushed open the front door and set down his bag with a heavy sigh. "Clive!" he called, turning on the lights. "I'm home! How was the play?"

He heard a faint voice from outside. Leaving the bag where it was, he went to the back door and opened it, looking around. "Ah, there you are."

* * *

 _The New Guy raised his hand. "Is Luc that black guy who killed off that one dude with the curse powers?"_

 _"Y'know, I thought he was," the storyteller commented, "but it turns out he's not."_

 _"So, he didn't kill the curse dude?" asked the New Guy._

 _"Oh, no, he did slay the Overlord," the storyteller corrected. "But he's not black."_

 _"Obviously not," agreed the New Guy. "He does wear intimidating black outfits, though, I suppose."_

 _"Huh? No, not the Overlord—I meant Luc!"_

 _"Luc wears intimidating black outfits?"_

 _"Oh, for—that's it, no further questions!" the Blind Wolf snapped, giving up._

* * *

 **Clive Melmont** was reassembling an unusually-shaped artifact in the yard in front of the shed. He waved at Luc, smiling brightly. "Hey, Papa!"

Luc grinned. "Hey, kid. How was the play?"

"It was fantastic!" Clive crowed, dashing toward Luc and nearly knocking him down with an embrace. "Thank you so, so, so much for letting me go! Tanis was an awesome director—she even let me participate! I got to play the hero!"

* * *

 _The Fan Girl suppressed a squeal of delight._ _"He's just so precious!" she cried, gathering up a bundle of fluff and hugging it until it disintegrated. "I can't stop smiling like an idiot."_

 _The New Guy raised his hand again. "If Clive's his son, why are their names different?"_

 _Before the storyteller could remind him not to ask questions, she was interrupted by an excited noise from the Fan Girl.  
_

 _"I know this one!" the pink-haired woman cried. "Clive isn't really Luc's son. The Melmont estate burned down in a fire, and Clive's whole family died. Luc managed to save Clive by building him a robotic body and transferring his consciousness into it. Now Clive is Luc's apprentice, and Luc is teaching him how to be a hero!"_

 _"That sounds a bit farfetched," the New Guy observed wryly._

 _"Earlier in this story, we watched an alien speak dog with a half-werewolf, a rogue culimancer quest for his order through an otherworldly portal, and a death paladin eat a breadstick shuriken she pulled out of her chest," the Blind Wolf pointed out. "Farfetched doesn't begin to cover it."_

* * *

Luc laughed, patting the boy's metal head. "That's great, Clive! I'm sure you made an excellent hero. What was the play about, again? And what are you building over there?"

"Oh!" Clive ran over to the artifact. "I'm trying to make a new friend! See? I took some of the circuitry out of that broken-down old lawnmower and hooked it up to one of the toys you brought me from..." He paused, but only for a moment. "From where I used to live."

* * *

 _"Is this part gonna make me sad?" the Fan Girl demanded, her eyes welling up. "IS IT?"_

 _The storyteller smiled and said nothing._

 _"So, how do we participate?" the New Guy asked._

 _"It's easy," the Little Ghoul assured him without looking up. "All you have to do is insult the storyteller."_

 _"Oh, I get it!" The New Guy pointed at the storyteller, cleared his throat, and struck a pose he thought quite suave. "Well, prepare to smell terrible, because you're going to get roasted!"_

 _The audience was quiet._

 _"Shouldn't a roast leave the meat smelling nice, not terrible?" the Hooded Figure wondered._

 _"Good effort, kid," the storyteller sighed._

* * *

Luc nodded, inspecting the device. "It looks good, son," he complimented him. "But if you want to make a mechanical friend, don't you think you'll need a golem core?"

Clive shook his head. "Nope, that's what the toy's for. It works on a call-and-response functionality, but I'm hoping I can train it from there. Hang on, I'll show you."

Clive climbed over the chassis and activated a switch, then pushed a button.

"INPUT," said the incomplete machine.

"Dog," said Clive.

"WOOF," replied the machine.

"Cat," said Clive.

"MEOW," it answered.

Clive turned to Luc, delighted. "See?"

The machine emitted a sound like the crashing of a large ocean wave.

Clive blushed and hastily flipped the switch back to the off position.

"It's the 'What Noise Do I Make' toy?" Luc asked in disbelief.

Clive nodded eagerly. "And since the responses are built into the hardware, I can expand it with modified parts and hook in circuitry for more advanced behavior!"

"That's incredible, Clive," Luc replied with unfeigned amazement.

The boy beamed.

* * *

 _The Fan Girl clapped her hands happily. "'Beamed' is JUST the word I wanna hear!"_

* * *

"Now what was the play—" Luc started to say, but Clive suddenly piped up and interrupted him.

"Oh! I almost forgot! We have a visitor!"

* * *

 _"IS IT TANIS?" demanded the Fan Girl._

 _"That's a question," quipped the wolf._

 _"Hey!" the Little Ghoul snapped. "Stop pulling me back in! I'm TRYING to finish something over here!"_

* * *

Luc blinked. "A visitor? Well, where are they, boy?"

Clive pointed back at the house. "I left him in the living room."

"That's not really a proper way to treat a guest," Luc chided, turning to walk back into the house. "Who is it?"

Clive shrugged, returning to his tinkering. "I dunno. He looked familiar, though. And he said you'd know him."

* * *

 _"I wonder who in the world it could be," said the Fan Girl innocently._

 _"You stepped on my line," grumbled the Blind Wolf._

 _"Huh?"_

* * *

Luc returned to the house, wondering who in the world it could be.

* * *

 _"Oh."_

* * *

He walked slowly down the house's central corridor toward the entrance to the living room. Few people knew how to find him here, and fewer still would come to see him on the night of the solstice.

Something was bothering him about the paintings on the wall, too, but he was too distracted to focus on it.

* * *

 _"SUCCESS!" boomed the Little Ghoul, brandishing a translucent sheet of paper like a banner of victory._

 _"Is that what I think it is?" asked a pile of rubble—which promptly stood and revealed itself to be the **Mad Scientist** , a charred gentleman with dusty white hair and a sooty blue coat._

 _"It is!" she proclaimed proudly. "I've summoned the ghost of my character sheet and bound it to this plane!"_

 _The Hooded Figure scratched his head. "Are we actually in a plane?"_

 _"That's a question," the Blind Wolf reminded him._

 _The blonde ghost turned to the Radio Girl, practically bouncing with excitement. "Can we play? Can we, can we?"_

 _"Sure, if somebody's got dice," the colorful woman replied with a shrug._

 _"Got it covered," answered the madman, unslinging his backpack and rummaging around within it._

 _"Dice that don't explode," the Radio Girl amended._

 _The Mad Scientist reluctantly put away the dice he'd located and retrieved a different set._

* * *

Luc turned into the living room and blinked, then frowned.

"Arec? What in the world brings you here?"

 **Arec Russell Zane** , who was idly doodling an illusory mustache on yet another of Luc's hanging paintings, dropped his spell and spun around in the blink of an eye. "S-sorry! I got bored! I mean—"

Then, to Luc's amazement, Arec dropped to a knee and bowed his head.

"I wish to apprentice under you, Master Von Gott, and learn how to become a true hero!"

Luc's jaw dropped.

* * *

 _"Go Kallistar!" cheered the Little Ghoul._

* * *

"Please?" Arec added without looking up.

"Okay, who put you up to this?" Luc finally managed, frowning. "I've had enough of your shenanigans to last a lifetime, and I'm in no mood to put up with another of your practical jokes tonight."

Arec shook his head, still kneeling. "Nobody, sir! I need to change! For Kallistar's sake, I need to become the man I'm meant to be."

Luc snorted. "Right. This isn't at all like that time you needed to find a silver acorn to save Kallistar from a lethal poison, is it?"

Arec shook his head. "Sorry about that! It was in bad taste!"

 _Though how he managed to get all those acorns painted with disappearing ink is well beyond me,_ Luc thought. "And it's not like the time that the keys to Argent University were stolen and you needed help tracking down the culprit?"

Arec gulped. "No, sir. Sorry about that, too. I did give them back!"

* * *

 _"Arec has an uphill battle here, doesn't he?" asked the blonde ghost rhetorically._

 _The Radio Girl wrinkled her nose at the Hooded Figure's character sheet. "Why does that thing smell like ancient secrets and the dust of long-forgotten tombs?"_

 _"My old one exploded, so I regurgitated a fresh copy. Nothing to worry about," the figure assured her._

 _The New Guy looked curious. "Character sheets and dice? What are you guys playing?"_

 _"Mech Frames," the Radio Girl explained. "It's a tactical RPG. With guns."_

 _"It's more of a mission-based resource management game," corrected the Hooded Figure. "With guns."_

 _"I'd call it an open-world visual novel," argued the Mad Scientist. "With guns."_

 _"Personally," the Little Ghoul chimed in, "I prefer to think of it as a team-based shooter."_

 _"With guns?" suggested the New Guy._

 _"Huh? No," she replied, shaking her head. "Guns are underpowered. I use swords."_

 _"But you said it was a shooter..."_

 _"Ranged swords, obviously," she explained airily._

* * *

"And," Luc continued, raising his voice until it was nearly a roar, "this is CERTAINLY not like the time you replaced my house and the entire village with a convincing fake of one set forty years in the past, nearly tricking me into jumping four decades into the future for absolutely no reason at all— _IS IT?_ "

"Not at all, sir!" Arec paused. "That was pretty funny, though, you have to admit. I'd forgotten all about it until—"

* * *

 _"Ooh, bad move," whispered the Little Ghoul._

 _"You forgot to roll starting values," the Radio Girl sighed._

* * *

"Damn it, Arec!" Luc roared, picking the boy up by his shirt and carrying him outside. "Get out of here!"

He threw Arec to the ground. To his surprise, Arec landed gracelessly, scraping the side of his head on a rock and twisting his arm the wrong way when he threw it out to break his fall.

Arec remained there, bleeding in the dust and gasping for breath.

* * *

 _"Clive, help him out!" pleaded the Fan Girl._

* * *

"...You're winded?" Luc observed, puzzled. "Why?"

Arec managed a grim smile. "It's a lot of work," he explained between gasps, "trying not to be me."

* * *

 _"That's a great line, dang," the Mad Scientist remarked approvingly._

 _The Radio Girl facepalmed. "You didn't spend any movement points, Mad. You can't use your action to recover them."_

 _The Fan Girl quietly wiped tears from her eyes._

* * *

Luc's eyes widened. _He means it,_ he thought, unwillingly. _He didn't use his power to stop me from hurting him._

"Papa," came a quiet voice behind Luc.

Luc turned and looked into the face of his apprentice, the boy whose life he'd saved so long ago.

* * *

 _The Radio shook her head. "I give up. Nobody's paying attention to the game."_

 _"Sorry," the Little Ghoul mumbled, distracted by the story._

* * *

"Papa," Clive repeated, looking up at Luc with tears in his eyes. "Give him a chance."

Luc's heart broke, and he looked away, shutting his eyes to stop himself from tearing up. After a moment spent composing himself, he opened his eyes and fixed Arec with the same stern glare as before.

"You'll do as I say," he stated.

"Without question," Arec promised.

* * *

 _"Give him a chance," murmured the Fan Girl, pulling a bundle of fluff closer to her face. "Listen to the metal cinnamon roll."_

 _"Cinnamon roll?" repeated the New Guy in confusion._

 _"Because he's 'the sweetest thing,'" clarified the Blind Wolf. "I disclaim responsibility for that one."_

* * *

"No," Luc corrected. "Question always. It's how we learn. But when I need you to do something, you'll do it. You won't ever try to shirk your workload, no matter what it is."

Arec nodded. "Question, but obey. Got it. I think."

* * *

 _"You can do it, Arec," the Fan Girl whispered urgently._

* * *

"You'll learn alongside Clive, and you'll listen to him," Luc continued. "The boy has a hero's heart."

Arec nodded. He caught Clive's eye and mouthed silent gratitude.

"And you won't give up," Luc finished.

Arec blinked. "You mean, quit?"

"No," Luc said. "You won't give up. You can quit being my apprentice whenever you want, as long as you continue on the path you claim to be choosing for yourself. But if you plan to ever give up this path, then you have no right to call yourself a hero, in-training or otherwise."

* * *

 _"So, an apprentice of an apprentice!" the Fan Girl proclaimed with a smile._

* * *

Arec nodded. "R... Right. I won't give up, then. For Kallistar."

"That's one more thing," Luc interrupted.

 _Shoot,_ Arec thought. _Did I say that out loud?_

* * *

 _The Fan Girl nodded._

* * *

"Not for Kallistar. For yourself. If you meant what you said about becoming the man you're meant to be, you must know that it can't be for anyone's sake except your own."

Arec nodded solemnly. "Yes, sir."

"Good," sighed Luc. "Then I'll take you on." _And the world of trouble that comes with you,_ he thought grimly.

* * *

 _"Oh, Luc, you'll be fine," the Little Ghoul said. "Just get Arec his Nerf."_

* * *

"Yes!" cried Clive, rushing forward and nearly knocking Luc down again. "Thank you, Papa!"

Arec rose unsteadily to his feet, nursing his injured arm. "Hey, Clive. Uh... Thanks. A lot."

Clive nodded brightly. "It'll be great to have someone to hang out with that's closer to my own age!"

Arec blinked. "Er... what are you, twelve?"

"And a half," Clive added proudly. "I know I'm younger than you, but you're still much younger than Papa!"

They shared a laugh and went indoors, where Luc started a pot of tea.

* * *

 _"So much pure sweetness!" exclaimed the Fan Girl. "This is so sweet, I think I'm gonna pass out!"_

 _"Nothing out of the ordinary, then," the Blind Wolf remarked dryly._

* * *

"So, I'm supposed to listen to you," Arec said seriously as they took their seats around the dining table.

"Yup!" Clive affirmed. "For hero stuff!"

Arec nodded. "When you showed me in earlier, you said you'd just come back from a play. How about I listen to you tell me about that?"

"Oh!" Clive cried excitedly. "Yes, of course! It was great! I got to play the legendary hero!"

Luc walked carefully into the room with a teakettle and three small cups on a large platter.

* * *

 _"I can't stop talking about how precious this is," the Fan Girl continued fondly. "I'm in tears!"_

 _"Alright, let's see how the dramatic irony plays out," remarked the Hooded Figure._

 _"Dramatic irony?" asked the New Guy._

 _"Four heroes, one from each nation, joined forces to kill Overlord Cairngort Rexan three hundred years ago," the Radio Girl explained. "They're the ones people call the 'legendary heroes.'"_

 _"Oh, does Arec not know this Luc is the same as that Luc?" the New Guy guessed._

 _"That's not it," the Radio Girl replied, shaking her head. "Oh—you missed Clive's performance in the play, didn't you? Then you wouldn't know."_

 _"Know what?"_

* * *

"Oh?" Arec asked. "Which one? Not Avenlia, I'm sure, so that leaves Servi, Jesop, or—oh! Did you play Luc?"

Clive shook his head. "No, it was a regional hero, like out of folklore. They called him the Legendary Hero Cairngort!"

 _CRASH!_ One teakettle and three small cups hit the floor and shattered.

Arec and Clive both jumped and turned to look at Luc, whose legs were soaked in steaming liquid—and who didn't seem to care.

* * *

 _"Ouch," winced the Little Ghoul._

 _"Clive didn't play one of the four heroes," the Radio Girl finished explaining._

* * *

"Who was it, again," he said in a low, dangerous voice, "that put on that play?"

Arec swallowed. "Uh... Tanis Trilives. Me and Heketch were in the leading—"

Luc's eyes bulged.

"REGICIDE HEKETCH!?" he shouted.

* * *

 _"Ooh,_ really _bad move," declared the blonde ghost._

* * *

Clive shrank back, completely baffled. "Er... wait! It couldn't have been the _same_ Heketch, could it?"

"It's, uh, not a common name," Arec murmured. "And Rasps don't die of old age."

* * *

 _The Fan Girl covered her mouth, cowering within her nest of fluff._

* * *

Luc forced himself to calm down. "I'm not angry with you," he explained. "Not at all. But we need to have a talk about things to make sure everything is clear."

The room went silent except for the fading sizzle of the cooling tea.

"Arec," Luc said in a calm, even tone, "would you be so good as to retrieve the first aid kit? Clive can show you where it is."

The boys nodded and sprinted off one after the other, and Luc collapsed into a chair.

 _What in the world have I gotten myself into now,_ he wondered.

* * *

 _"End Epilogue 2: Luc's Return!" announced the storyteller. "Thanks so much for being here, everyone!"_

 _The Fan Girl burst into fierce applause, whooping and cheering. "I loved it! Amazing!"_

 _The rest of the room clapped politely._

 _"I love how Luc's all, like, 'I gotta stay strong... for the kids!'" the New Guy remarked approvingly._

 _"Awesome!" The Blind Wolf grinned. "We'll come back to the remaining two epilogues at some later point. For now, I should be going. I need to talk to somebody about cleaning this place up."_

 _"I like how you write Arec," the Radio Girl calmly observed. "He's actually believable, instead of just being a massive troll di—"_


End file.
